


Love's Misguided Arrow

by NightwingsAngel



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), The Batman (Cartoon), Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Batfamily Feels, Crossdressing, Damian is trying really hard, Drama, Eating Disorders, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Underage, Online Dating, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Prostitution, Protective Jason, Romance, Slash, Slow Burn, Tim is a wreck, Underage Drinking, Undercover As Prostitute, jason is a good big brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:58:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 61,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7787596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightwingsAngel/pseuds/NightwingsAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim Drake is tired of being alone. All he wants is someone to make him feel loved and appreciated, but he's having a hard time letting go of his last relationship. After throwing himself into his work as Red Robin and Timothy Wayne, Stephanie convinces him that maybe it's time to get back out into the world and start dating again. He feels his resolve slipping as she suggests online dating, saying that he doesn't even have to go on a date. She just wants him to set up a profile, talk to a few people, and see if anything clicks...really anything to get him away from working himself to death. When he finally relents and sets up a profile on Gotham's number one dating website, he's thrust into a series of events that makes him wonder just how bad Cupid's aim is. After all, how could the site possibly think that he and Damian Wayne were a perfect match?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stephanie's Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Just to clarify, I've aged everyone up in this story so they're all a suitable age. So none of this is under-age. There may be some implied underage but Damian is 19 and Tim is about twenty-four. 
> 
> The rating of this story may also go up as the story progresses :) Just an FYI.

It was Steph’s idea. It was not Tim’s idea. It would never be Tim’s idea. Yet, somehow she’d talked him into doing it.

                He’d been in Chicago when the idea had first been brought up; working late on a case that he should have wrapped up a week ago but remained undercover for, because his instinct told him that there was more going on. The Titan’s tower was dark as all of its other occupants were sound asleep in their respectful beds. Tim, however, was at his desk. His light was on and his computer was open. A cup of sweetened coffee sat nearby as he read over an old case report the Red Hood had submitted. He was convinced the same guy was behind both cases but hadn’t any luck in connecting the two. According to all of his contacts, the guy was presumed dead, but of course Tim knew that in his family’s line of work you should never presume someone is dead unless you have their body. Even then, you should use caution. 

                With a sigh, Tim massaged his temples. He let the pads of his fingers stroke away the stress gathered there while his mind attempted to piece together his case. In two days it’d make a month since he’d gone undercover at the hotel, hoping to catch the eye of the guy he and Red Hood suspected of being a drug dealing pimp. He was more than sure that the hotel was a front for a prostitution ring. In order to finish the case, however, he had to get into the ring and so far he was having no luck.

                He decided that he needed a break. His eyes itched and his head hurt. What was a couple minutes of rest compared to a month’s worth of undercover work anyway? If he hadn’t gotten anywhere in a month then surly he could afford one more night. Then again, any moment could be the breakthrough he was looking for.

                As Tim warred with himself over whether or not he should call it a night and crawl into the tempting embrace of his bed, a message popped up on his computer screen. The picture of a familiar blond was beside the neatly typed words that appeared in the message box.

                “Working late again, Timothy? We need to get you a girlfriend.”

                Tim allowed a small, tired smile to play across his lips as he read the message. The dance of his fingers when he replied was all too familiar. “Me? I could ask the same of you. What are you doing up?”

                “I’m at the airport. Cass’s plane gets in soon, remember?”

                “That’s tonight?”

                “…This morning…Tim, you are aware that it’s nearly five in the morning, right?”

                Tim hadn’t been aware. He hadn’t stopped to check the time since sitting down to work six hours ago. Had he really been sitting in front of his computer, staring at the same case file and at the same picture of his suspect, for six hours? He blinked and reached for his coffee cup. No wonder he felt exhausted. 

                “Tim…Tell me you aren’t still obsessing over that hotel case. B ordered you to call it quits. You caught the guy.”

                “I caught a guy,” Tim responded after tilting his cup to find it empty of the liquid he desired. His heart dropped a little as he realized that if he wanted more coffee he’d have to get up and make it and he was pretty sure that he would pass out on his bed before he even made it to the single-cup coffee maker sitting on his dresser. “It wasn’t the right guy.”

“You mean it wasn’t _the_ guy. Why don’t you bring the case back to us? Let the family help you solve it.”

                “No. I don’t need help on this one. Besides, I already sort of have a partner for it. Jason’s been helping me….when he has the time…”

                “He has a boyfriend now. It’s understandable that he can’t always help.”

                “He and Dick are getting pretty serious,” Tim had agreed. “I won’t be surprised if they move in together soon.”

                “No one would be.” Three little dots appeared as Stephanie kept typing and Tim felt his eyes drooping as he stared at them. A yawn escaped him and he debated on just telling her that he was going to bed before her next message appeared.

                “You need a girlfriend,” Steph’s message seemed to scream at him when it popped up. The little blooping sound it made was enough to jar him awake to read it, though his heart fell when he read the next message she typed. “Or a boyfriend. You can’t let heartbreak hold you back and you can’t keep burying yourself in work to avoid it.”

                And that was just the problem. He hadn’t gone on a date in eight months. Not since he and Kon-el broke up. They’d been together for three years and Tim hadn’t wanted to admit that their relationship was falling apart, but towards the end it became obvious what they had to do. It came to a point where they either had to end things between them or risk destroying the other. It’d been one of the hardest decisions he’d ever had to make and he knew that it’d been the same for Kon.

                Neither Kon-el nor Tim had wanted to end their relationship. They’d still loved each other. Yet, their lives were going in two different directions. Giving up the person he’d had a crush on for most of his teen years, and the person he’d shared his life with for the last three years, was hard. It’d hurt, but making that choice hadn’t hurt as much as finding out that Kon was dating again had. Even that didn’t hurt as much as walking in on Kon and his new lover snuggling on the couch. That’s why he worked.

                If he was focused on a case, or a Wayne Enterprises project, then he wasn’t focused on Kon or on how much he still wanted to be with the other man. The ending of their relationship had been a mutual agreement. He felt that he didn’t have the right to be hurt over it. Yet every time he saw Kon with his girl hanging from his arm, his heart seized.

                Tim knew that Stephanie was right. He needed to stop obsessing over cases and the blue prints for new technology at Wayne enterprises. He need to get back out there, in the real world, and feel again.

                But feeling hurt.

                And he wasn’t sure if he was ready to try for a new relationship.

                “You don’t even have to actually go on a date,” Stephanie had persisted. “You could set up an online profile and just chat with some people. You need to do something, though. This workaholic phase you’re in isn’t healthy.”

                That had been the first time she’d had the idea and Tim had ignored it with an eye roll. Of course, as the month continued she started spewing tales about how dating sites would use statistics to find matches for him. He didn’t like it. The whole idea of filling out a profile and allowing a computer base to predict how well of a match other profiles were to his…it made him feel like he’d be a part of some insane memory game, where he and all his fellow profiles were the game tiles.

                Still, seeing Kon with his girlfriend hurt and he was getting nowhere on his case. Maybe it was time he stopped trying to burying himself in the work of Red Robin and Timothy Wayne and start looking for someone who’d make Timothy Drake happy. Maybe Steph was right.


	2. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's workaholic ways come to Bruce's attention and the older man orders him home.

Giggles and cuddles. Kisses and shared glances. Tim was getting tired of watching Kon-El interact with his new girlfriend. He’d situated himself on a chair in the living area of Titans Tower hours before. It’d been silent then and Tim had been content to sip on a mug of hot coffee while video chatting with his coworkers back at Wayne Enterprises. He’d finished a call with Lucius, as well as a conference call, before Kon and his new lover had made an appearance. Yet, as he’d selected Bruce’s name on his contact list, the goo-goo-eyed duo contaminated his sanctuary with their too sweet giggles. Tim felt his lips thin into a line as Kon dropped onto the couch and pulled his girlfriend into his lap.

                The girl flipped her chestnut brown hair over her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around Kon’s neck and giggled incessantly. She was new to the tower and was only allowed entrance because of her boyfriend. Tim hadn’t wanted her in the tower at all, but his teammates had readily agreed to Kon’s request to allow her admittance. She was a meta-human, though she was not a member of the Titans. Tim had made it very clear when he’d addressed his team on the matter of her. She was allowed in the tower, but she was not allowed on the team. They hardly knew anything about her.

                Supposedly, she had super strength, though she hadn’t showed it. Her name was Eva and she was a product of Cadmus, like Kon-El, though Tim found it suspicious that when he hacked into the Cadmus data base he was unable to find any information regarding her. The same occurred when he broke into Lex Luthor’s personal data bases. Still, Kon swore up and down that she’d come from a Cadmus facility and that he’d known her as a friend for a few years now. Tim found the whole story flawed but he didn’t dare mention it in fear that his teammates would accuse him of picking on Eva out of jealousy.

                So, he kept his mouth shut and his mind working. He really shouldn’t be concerned with Kon and his girlfriend anyway. His relationship with Kon was over and there was no jealousy present in his life. Okay, maybe there was a little, but it wasn’t Eva he was jealous of. He didn’t envy her or wish to be back in Kon’s arms. He merely missed the comfort and safety found in having a loving relationship. He missed having someone to talk to about the stress of his double identities; someone to go to when Bruce was a bit too harsh or Damian a bit too violent. He missed having a warm set of arms to drag him away from his work when he delved too deep into it and soft lips to kiss away the day’s worries.

                The more he thought about how wonderful being in a relationship was, the more he wanted to be in one again, and the more he wanted to be in one, the more Stephanie’s idea of online dating sounded less and less ridiculous.

                As Eva and kon-El began to whisper softly to each other, Tim shut his laptop with more force than he’d intended. He fought back a flinch at the sound it made when it closed and at the way both Kon and Eva jumped at the sudden noise. A tight, forced smile spread itself across Tim’s lips as he offered a shrug to the confused couple before walking past them.

                “Tim,” Kon attempted to call out for him to stop, “Is something wrong?”

                “No. Sorry. Just forgot about a conference call I have to take.” Lying to Kon had never been something Tim had thought he’d find himself doing so easily, but since Eva had showed up he’s perfected the art.

He didn’t turn around once as he kept walking and didn’t pause to chat with any of his teammates along the way to his room. Not even when Beast Boy called out, “Yo, dude, You’ve got to see the new game Cyborg got.”

Normally Tim would have taken a few moments to slip into Cyborg’s room. He would have even hung out with Garfield and him as they played the game. He might have even played some himself. This time, though, he just wanted to be alone. So, he’d ignored his friends, found his room, and placed his laptop on his desk.

The tablet, sporting a red case, which was resting on the desk’s front left corner was swiped before Tim threw himself onto his bed. He’d laid back, with his head resting on his pillows, and held the tablet above his head. It was the latest model and the best the market had to offer. With Wayne technology he’d been able to improve upon the tablet’s greatness, making a good product a near perfect one, and creating for himself his own little universal remote for the world. There was hardly anything he couldn’t do with his tablet and he’d made sure to encrypt his files and secure them so well that even if any of his family members, or teammates, did manage to figure out his password they wouldn’t be able to hack his tech. Red Robin was nothing if not thorough.

As Tim was about to open up the case file for the hotel pimp he’d been dealing with, Bruce’s name appeared on the screen. The bird didn’t even hesitate before accepting the video call and when his adopted father’s dark hair and blue eyes swam into view he offered the man a genuine smile.

“Hey, Bruce.”

“Tim,” Bruce’s tone was short and clipped, but it wasn’t void of emotion. It was a mix between the formal voice he used in board meetings and the concerned one that would appear only when one of his little birds had gotten themselves in a situation he deemed too much for them. “How are the Titans?”

“Well. How is the manor?”

“Quiet. Damian has been at the university for a month now.”

“Ah, and how’s the little prince doing?”

“Well.”

“That’s to be expected. He was more prepared for life away from the manor than any of us were.”

“I suppose, but he still has much to learn.”

“Don’t we all? Despite our bravo, all of us could afford a few more lessons in life.”

“And I don’t doubt that life will give them to you. Actually, I called because of one you could learn.”

“Me?” Tim wiggled slightly. He shifted beneath Bruce’s blue stare. His past experience as Robin had him holding his breath as he waited for Bruce to continue. His mind fought to recall any flawed moment in his recent patrolling activities, but he knew he’d turned all his reports in on time and that his technique in combat was of excellent nature. What could Bruce have found wrong with him this time?

“Did you really think you could get away with disobeying my direct order to close your recent case?”

Ah, yes, there was that flaw. Of course Tim hadn’t ever expected to get away with it, as Bruce had said. He’d never even considered that trying to pull wool over the Bat’s eyes would work. He’d just hoped that the big guy wouldn’t confront him until after he’d completed the case. If Bruce told him he had to leave the case or leave the cave he’d choose to leave. It wouldn’t be the first time Red Robin had gone against the Batman’s wishes and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“I have to stop him.”

“He’s dead, Tim.”

“No body was ever found.”

                Bruce stared at Tim for a moment before shaking his head. “Stephanie believes you’ve been working too hard. I am inclined to agree. I know that telling you again to close the case isn’t going to produce different results. So, I’ve come to a decision.”

                When Bruce paused, Tim stared.

                “I want you back in Gotham,” and as if his request wasn’t clear enough he added the order of, “Immediately.”

                “Wh…”

                “Don’t bother arguing, Timothy. I expect you back here no later than Wednesday. If you are not, I will come to the tower and drag you out. You may continue to work on your case, but it will be under my guidance.”

                “But I’m Red Robin, I don’t work under Batman anymore,” Tim attempted to argue.

                “Are you or are you not still a part of this family?” Bruce stated and the fact that his voice still hadn’t changed from the concerned formal tone irritated the younger man. “With your health issues, and the way you have been working yourself towards an early grave, you are no longer permitted to work alone. This is a temporary arrangement. I do not want to force you back to the cave, but I will if I have to in order to assure that you are not harming yourself with too heavy of a work load.”

                Tim let out a ragged huff of annoyance before stating, “I can’t up and leave the tower. I have to give my team a warning.”

                “Which is why I’m giving you two days to come home,” Bruce paused again. His blank expression didn’t waver under the intense glare his third son was giving him. “I look forward to having you back. Good Night.”

                The call was ended abruptly and Tim was left staring up at the photo he’d used as his tablet’s background. His and Kon’s smiling faces stared back at him, along with the faces of their teammates. Cyborg had snapped the photo on one of their outings at the pier. It was a selfie-shot, angled so that all of them could be seen in the photo. Kon had his arm around Tim’s waist –much like he’d had his arm around Eva’s in the living area –and was grinning up at the camera.

                Tim felt his chest constrict at the memory of the night the photo had been taken. It’d been just after Kon and he had started dating. Their relationship had been new and they’d been the ones making goo-goo-eyes and clinging to each other like Kon and Eva now. Tim missed it…all of it…

                Maybe Stephanie was right about online dating and maybe Bruce was right about him coming home. Maybe getting away from Kon, and Eva, and the team, and the tower, would do him good. In a single, graceful move, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and headed for the back pack he kept in his closet. The manor was still his home and he wouldn’t need to take much with him for his dresser there was kept stocked with clothing and his room was left prepared for him. Really, all he needed was his tablet, his laptop, and a few other gadgets. He’d toss a jacket or two, and maybe a couple of outfits, into the bag just to be on the safe side, but packing for Gotham would only take him a grand total of fifteen minutes.

                With his bag packed and his mind made up to follow Bruce’s orders, he wrote a quick note and hung it on the outside of his bedroom door.

 

                                                  **Called back to Gotham. I’ll be in contact. Nothing to worry about, just Bat business.**

**-RR**

 

                And then he was walking down the hall, through the kitchen, past Kon and Eva –who were still on the couch smiling and speaking sweet nothings –and towards the garage, where he mounted his red Ducati. He didn’t even bother to grab the Red Robin suit he kept at the tower because he knew there was a spare in the Batcave, as well as one in the secret room in the penthouse above Wayne Enterprises.


	3. Welcome Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim arrives at the manor.

It was late at night when Tim arrived in Gotham. His Ducati weaved in and out of the night life traffic as he zoomed past the various nightclubs and bars Gotham City had to offer. Neon lights reflected off the black windshield of his helmet. There were hookers, scantily dressed and standing on street corners. Their pimps wouldn’t be too far away. Probably sitting in one of the cars parked nearby.

                Tim kept an eye on the sky, knowing that the Bat was out and half expecting the Batmobile to come barreling around the next corner. The Bat signal was lit up. Its light could be seen from every corner of Gotham, despite its source being the Police station. Perhaps Nightwing or Red Hood had responded to the signal as well as the Bat. Perhaps when he arrived at the manor there’d be no one there but Alfred.

                That was the most likely scenario, seeing as both Nightwing and Red Hood had their own places. Though, more than likely, they’d both be returning to the same apartment after patrol. On top of that, Damian was off at the state University, which left Bruce and Alfred as the sole residents of the manor. Unless, for some reason, Stephanie and Cassandra were there, but Stephanie also had her own apartment and Cassandra always stayed with her when she was in town.  

                Tim supposed he could skip going to the manor all together. Bruce had ordered him back to Gotham but he hadn’t precisely ordered him back to the Wayne estate. It’d be as easy as dropping the Bat a text and making a slight course adjustment for him to be heading towards the pent house he often used whenever he stayed in the city for an extended amount of time.

There was a downside to staying in the pent house, though. He was the only one who used it enough to even consider buying groceries for it and he hadn’t been back to it in over a month. The fridge would be as bare as it was when he left. Plus, if he stayed at the manor not only would he not have to go grocery shopping but he would get to enjoy Alfred’s cooking.

The drive through Gotham wasn’t bad, but Tim was relieved to reach the manor. He entered through a cave entrance and parked his bike in its designated spot. The cave lights were on but there was no one around. The computer chair was empty and the Batmobile was gone.

Tim stretched as his dismounted the Ducati. He could see his Red Robin uniform in it case across the cave and considered suiting up and joining the Bat on patrol. It was already late, though. Another hour or two and Bruce would be heading back. There was no point in him joining.

“Welcome home, Master Timothy,” Alfred appeared seemingly out of nowhere and not for the first time did Tim wonder if the butler was where Bruce learned his little disappearing act from.

“Hey, Al,” Tim offered the butler a kind smile.

Alfred’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, they had for as long as Tim had known him, and the sight of it brought a cloud of tranquility to the young man. There was no situation, no emotional meltdown or rough night on patrol, no heart break or tragedy, which Alfred couldn’t fix. Even when he couldn’t really fix it, when there was nothing he could do to make the situation any less horrible, he was a constant comfort.

“Cookie, sir?” Alfred held out the serving tray he was carrying. A plate of hot chocolate chip cookies and two mugs of still steaming coffee was on the tray.

Tim offered the older man a thanks before taking a couple of the offered cookies.

“Your coffee, sir,” Alfred prompted and Tim also took one of the mugs. “Master Bruce is on his way back to the cave. He wishes to speak with you when he arrives.”

“Guess I’ll just wait for him here then,” Tim stated.

“I’ll take your bag to your room. I’ve take the liberty of refilling your weekly medication container. It is on your dresser.”

“Thanks, Al.”

“Also, Miss Stephanie has requested that I inform you that she has set up an account for you.” Tim froze, but Alfred continued speaking. “She left a note on your desk with your login information. I am also supposed to tell you that if you do not complete your profile on the account, she will do it for you. Master Timothy, I do hope you do as Miss Stephanie requests. Going out, even if it is just once, could greatly improve your emotional health.”

“Why don’t you just say it? Why don’t any of you just say it?” Tim sighed. “I know you’re all thinking it, but I’m not depressed. I’m just….”

“Lonely,” Alfred finished with a knowing look. “Timothy, you have nothing to be ashamed of. It’s completely normal for you to feel this way, but it has been some time since you and the young Kent broke up. It’s time to think about moving on.”

“I am moved on,” Tim deposited himself in the computer chair. “At least, I thought I was. Until he started dating again.”

“Perhaps there was some part of you that had still been holding onto your past relationship and when he started dating again that part realized that what you two had was officially over.”

“Maybe.”

“Timothy…Tim,” Alfred moved to stand in front of Tim so his young charge could not ignore him with vigilante work. “You are like a grandson to me. I only wish to see you happy and healthy. Throwing yourself into your work will not accomplish either. You need to relax. Go out with a nice girl, or guy, and let yourself feel. You are not the only one in this family that has used an online dating site before.”

“I’m not?”

Alfred shook his head, “No, so there is no need to look so ashamed. I was once in Stephanie’s place, and Bruce in yours.”

“You convinced Bruce to try online dating?”

“I did and he met a lovely young woman. Your guardian, however, has a hard time reveling himself to people. Batman, Brucie…they are both masks. I believe he and the young lady would have made an ideal couple, had he shown up for their date.”

“He ditched her?”

“He was afraid and I believe he still wonders what might have happened if he’d gone to meet her. You boys could have had a mother, had everything worked out. Do yourself a favor. Finish the profile Stephanie has set up for you, find a date, and go meet them. You never know, Master Timothy, if the person you are destined to be with is only one click away.”

Behind Tim, the Batmobile rolled into the cave. Alfred gave Tim’s shoulder a squeeze as he moved past him, silver tray in hand.

“Good evening, Sir,” the elder greeted his first charge, who was exiting the shiny black vehicle. “I trust patrol went well.”

“As well as could be expected, Alfred,” Bruce pulled his cowl off with one hand while taking the steaming cup of coffee off Alfred’s tray. “I trust you had a good trip.”

It took Tim a moment to realize that Bruce was speaking to him and he swiveled the computer chair around so he could look at his adoptive father when responding.

“It was fine,” Tim remarked. He was cradling his own cup of coffee in his hands. The warm porcelain felt nice against the palms of his hands.

“The weather is growing chilly,” Alfred remarked. “I am hoping your drive home does not result in a cold.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tim assured.

                “With your low immune system, I highly doubt that. I will be sure to add some immune boosters to your meals while you are here,” Alfred stated.

                “Did you pick up his medication from the pharmacy?” Bruce inquired and Tim was slightly perturbed that the two older men were speaking about his health as if he weren’t present.

                “I did. I put a weeks’ worth of it in his room.”

                “Excellent. Thank you, Alfred.”  

                “You are very welcome, sir,” Alfred responded before turning away from the dynamic duo and making his way up the stairs to the manor.

                “I wanted to speak with you,” Bruce stated as he began to undo his suit.

                “So Alfred said,” Tim replied.

                Bruce paused in taking off his boots to study the face of his third son. Dark lines circled Timothy’s eyes. His skin was pale and there was a yellow tint to it that wasn’t healthy. The discoloration caused Brow’s lips to thin. “Have you been taking your medicine?”

                “Yes,” Tim huffed. “Despite what you and the rest of the family think, I’m not a little kid anymore. I am capable of taking care of myself.”

                “You don’t look like it,” Bruce stated bluntly.

                “I’m fine. I’m just tired,” Tim ran a hand through his short hair as a soft sigh escaped him. He stared down at the arm of the batcomputer chair for a moment before admitting. “You’re right. I’ve been working too hard. I haven’t been getting enough sleep and all the undercover work I’ve been doing is starting to take its toll. I’ll be back to normal after a couple nights of rest.”

                The Bat’s lips remained in a thin line but he didn’t say anything more on the subject. He merely tilted his head in a nod of confirmation before continuing with, “Your brothers and I will be aiding you with your case. I already sent the files I have on it to them. Jason and Dick are planning a stakeout of the last known residence of your suspect and Damian is researching some of his allies.”

                “And you?”

                “Matches Malone will be making an appearance at the hotel in a few nights. I’ve already had him in contact with the owner as well as a few thugs that boast that the hotel has the hottest girls around. I’ll be asking for you when I attend.”

                “That’ll be hard since I’m not on the roster. I’m not even into the dancer circle yet. The manager, Clarence Westwood, has me waiting tables.”

                “Requests are allowed from patrons.”

                “Yes, but it’s rare for any to ask for someone that’s not working the backrooms.”

                “And that’s where you need to be if you’re to crack your case.”

                “In theory. Rumor has it that the head guy tests all the backroom girls out himself before they’re put on the roster.”

                Bruce raised a brow. “I’m assuming your intention is to end the case the moment you meet him.”

                “No, Bruce, I’m going to magically grow a vagina and let the guy fuck me before I bust him,” Tim rolled his eyes. “I already know who he is. I just need to get him alone before I can wrap up the case.”

                “Matches might be able to help you with that. If your manager sees you getting attention from the crowd, you’re more likely to be suggested for a promotion.”

                “They’re not going to promote directly to backrooms. It’s going to take time. I’ll have to be a dancer first.”

                Bruce nodded. “We’ll figure it out and I’ll use my connections to encourage your rise in fame.”

                “My cover name is Tabby Degarmo. This is some of my best work yet. You might not even recognize me.”

                A rare deep chuckle rumbled in Bruce’s chest. “It doesn’t matter if you’re posing as a man, a woman, or a streetlamp, I’ll recognize you. Now, enough work for the night. I want you in bed and sleeping within an hour. Understand?”

                “Yes, sir,” Tim stood, intending to head up to his manor bedroom. “Good night.”

                “Good night, Timothy, and welcome back.”


	4. Authors Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important note

Okay, so here's the thing. I totally had the next chapter of this almost entirely done, but then my computer crashed. I lost all my files and everything so, until I can purchase a new laptop, updates are going to be rare. 

I'm really sorry about this. 

I'll still be working on this story and will  
Stock pile all updates in a notebook  
So that when I do have access to a computer I will be able to update a few times. Okay? 

Again, I'm sorry. Just, please, bear with me.


	5. Profiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim sets up his online profile and Bruce and Alfred contemplate what to do with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone who has hung tight waiting for me to update. I haven't gotten a new computer yet but I've managed to recover my old once enough that I can start updating again. Thank the heavens for a reset systems and online universities who give you a free copy of Word because you study with them.

Bruce’s orders were something that Tim tried to follow unless the need arose for him to disobey. He tried not to take after his older brothers. After all, Jason was supposed to be the one notoriously known for not following the Bat’s orders. Dick would also deviate from Bruce’s wishes if he deemed it necessary but, then again, so would Damian. Following orders and sticking to protocol was one of Tim’s greatest strengths.  Yet, as he watched the soap suds swirling down the drain of his shower he knew that he wouldn’t be following Bruce’s orders that night.

                Though Bruce had ordered him to bed, sleep was the last thing on Tim’s mind. All he could think of as he toweled his hair was the little purple sticky note he’d spotted upon entering his room that night. Stephanie’s handwriting had been curly and stood out against the purple paper.

                                _Tim, Just give it a shot please?_

_-Steph_

_Website: www.LovesArrow.com_

_Username: TimmyDWayne_

_Password: BirdBrain3_

                Tim sighed as he exited his bathroom. Steam rolled out behind him and the towel around his waist hung low. The bracelet he’d worn since having his spleen removed shifted slightly on his wrist as he opened a dresser drawer to pull out a fresh pair of boxers. Slipping on the boxers, he shut off the main light of his room, leaving only the lamp on his nightstand glowing.

                A sharp breeze whistled outside his bedroom window and Tim knew that the temperature would be changing soon, as October slowly gave way to November. He crawled into bed and pulled his laptop onto his lap as he contemplated whether the time of the year would be a valid excuse to prolong his entrance into the world of online dating. Would Stephanie accept the excuse of, “It’s almost Thanksgiving, most of the people looking for relationships right now are only looking so they aren’t alone for the holidays.”

                “What’s the harm in that?” he could almost hear her reply. “You’ve got to start somewhere and so what if you end up dating someone who just doesn’t want to be alone for the holidays? By the end of the month they could be madly in love with you and want forever.”

                “Unlikely,” he muttered out loud to the loading screen on his computer.

                Rubbing at the back of his neck, Tim took a deep breath. Setting up an online dating profile couldn’t be too hard and what real damage could it do? Besides, Alfred had made it sound like Stephanie had already done all of the hard work for him. If she’d taken time out of her life to set him up a profile because she was worried about him being lonely then the least he could do was complete the profile. He didn’t have to do anything once it was completed. He could never look at it again, if he wanted to. He wouldn’t have to answer messages sent to him on the site or agree to a date, but then at least he could say he did the profile.

                “Okay, okay. This won’t be too bad,” Tim gave himself a pep talk as he typed in the web address his ex and now sort-of sister left for him.

                Shortly after, a bright blue filled his computer screen. For a split second he feared that his laptop had crashed before the screen was also filled with an array of floating red and pink hearts. The website’s name exploded on the center of the screen and a white drop down box appeared, requesting his username and password.

                “Username, TimmyDWayne,” Tim read from Stephanie’s note as he typed in the words. “Password, BirdBrain3….really, Steph? Couldn’t be more creative? And you better not have set my name as Timmy.”

                The blue on the laptop screen shrunk into a banner as the rest became white. Tim didn’t bother with the newsfeed that’d been displayed for him and, instead, clicked on the My Profile button. A picture of him appeared on the upper left corner of his profile and he immediately smiled as he remembered when Steph had taken that picture.

                It’d been the last time he’d seen all his brothers at once...the last time the family had all been in the manor at the same time. He’d been leaning against the island in the kitchen, dressed in a simple green shirt and jeans. His elbows were resting on the island and one of his tennis shoe clad feet was pressed against the bottom of the island.

                He was laughing in the picture; his mouth open in a large grin and his eyes shining. No one who was looking at the photo would know that he’d been laughing because Jason and Dick were reminiscing about a time when Bruce had been forced to wear a cowl on patrol that hadn’t fit him properly.

                “Remember how messed up the eyes were?”

                “It didn’t even have lens in it yet.”

                “It was a prototype design.”

                “He wasn’t ever supposed to wear it on the streets.”

                “But it was the only suit left in the safe house and the eye holes were too big.”

                “He’d worn eyeliner! All the way around his eyes,” Jason exclaimed. “Oh, fuck, you should have seen Scarecrow’s face when we’d gone to fight him and B was dressed like that! It was almost as bad as the scaly panties!”

                “Hey! Those were a thing!”

                “Those were never a thing, Dickhead.”

                “B said…”

                “B lied.”

                Tim smiled fondly at the memory. That’d been a good night. Bruce had taken the silly stories and jokes in stride and even Damian had been in a good mood. The youngest bat hadn’t tried to kill Tim once that night. Instead, he’d offered to help when Tim had told Alfred not to worry about the dishes and that he’d do them for the old butler.

                “So, college?” Tim had attempted small talk later that night while he dried a dish and Damian washed another. Though the kitchen doorway they could hear their brothers playfully berating each other as they played a video game. Bruce’s deep tone chuckled and Alfred reprimanded the older birds.

                “Tt. Really, Drake? Small talk?” Damian scoffed and placed a clean plate on the drying rack Tim was busy emptying.

                Tim shrugged. “Sorry.”

                There had been silence for a few moments before Damian had sighed and said, “Yeah, college. The university is the best in state and ranked second in the country. Father thinks it’ll be good for me.”

                “And you don’t?”

                “Tt, I’m hoping the work is adequately challenging and that my professors are brighter than I, though the probability of that happening is slim to none.”

                “I don’t know, Damian, when I attended it was pretty difficult. Obviously, I had an easier time with the work than most of my peers but it still served to challenge me. Do you know what classes you’re taking this semester?”

                “A variety of introduction courses.”

                “Any math? Or science?”

                “Algebra and Biology.”

                “If you don’t have Professor Davison for biology you should see about transferring. He’s the best science teacher they have and he doesn’t take attendance.”

                “Why would I not show up for class?” Damian’s face twisted into a scowl. “Why did _you_ not show up for class?”

                “I didn’t mean it like that. He just doesn’t care if you’re in class if you do well on the work. I had him at eight in the morning and sometimes I’d do some Red Robin work the night before. If I was too tired, I’d skip his class because as long as you have high grades he doesn’t care if you’re there or not. Plus, he posts all his lectures online. I’d listen to the lectures that way.”

                Damian Hummed in thought. “I shall keep that in mind. However, Father is adamant that I forsake my duties as Robin while at the university. He wishes for me to focus solely on my studies.”

                “Understandable. Patrol might be harder for you anyway, since you’re living on campus. I rented a nearby apartment.”

                “A path I considered, but Colin is also attending and he is excited to room together.”

                Tim had laughed, much to Damian’s dismay, for he’d always thought there was more between Colin Wilkes and Damian Wayne than the younger wanted to admit. The blush that made its way up Damian’s neck at Tim’s laughter only added to the amusement Tim found in the situation. However, the laughter had faded slightly when an unwelcome thought had slipped into Tim’s mind.

                _‘He’s cute when he blushes.’_

                The thought had shocked Tim back then and since he’d buried it away, refusing to dwell on it. Even now, as he sat staring at his profile picture he shook his head at the memory of the thought. Damian was his brother. His brother that hated him. They weren’t like Dick and Jason and the thought had merely been his detective side noticing something new about the youngest bird. It’d meant nothing.

                “Steph’s right. If you’re seriously thinking about how cute Damian is when he blushes, then you’re lonely,” Tim muttered to himself. “Now, how do I edit this thing?”

                Tim moved his cursor so he could click on a button that claimed to be able to edit his profile.  A list of answered and unanswered questions appeared before him and he scanned through the ones Stephanie had answered first.

                                Display Name: Timmy Wayne.

                Nope, that wasn’t going to happen. Timmy made him sound like a little boy. If he wanted to be taken seriously and hook someone who wanted a serious relationship, then he needed a more mature name. A name that said he knew who he was and that he had things figured out. A name that didn’t scream he was an easy lay or a project. Something simple, yet mature. And he didn’t want the Wayne name to appear on his profile either. There were too many people out there that would date him only because he was a Wayne and came with money.

                                Display Name: Timothy Drake.

                “Okay, next question,” he mused and continued to read through the questions. “Hometown, Gotham. Age, 24. Sex, Male. Interested in, guys and girls.”

                Tim finished with the questions Stephanie had already answered and moved on to the ones awaiting him.

                “What are you looking for?” he read. “Friendship, Friends with Benefits, causal dating, casual sex, long term dating, dating, marriage…Uhhhhh…okay, let’s put dating, long term dating, and friendship.”

                As the questions progressed, Tim found himself talking about his religious beliefs, hobbies, work life, and the traits his ideal match would have.

                                Religious: Not really.

                                Hobbies: When I have the time I like tinkering. I find technology to be intriguing and am often in the middle of modifying one of my tablets or computers. I also like to design my own tech and read.

                                Work Life: I am currently employed at Wayne Enterprises, in the Applied Science division.

                                High School: Gotham Academy

                                College or Graduate School: State University, Degrees in Applied Science and Business.

                                My Perfect Match would be: Loyal and passionate. I want someone who will stand up for their self and others, will be committed and loyal, can keep up with me intellectually, enjoys a good conversation and a hot cup of tea, and can put up with my quirky family.

                Tim stiffened as he heard footsteps outside his door. He paused in his typing as a soft knock was given on his bedroom door.

                “Yes?” Tim called out.

                “I thought I told you to go to bed,” Bruce was speaking before he even had the door open all the way.

                “I will soon. Promise. I just wanted to fill out part of the dating profile Steph set up for me before I lost my nerve.”

                “You’re actually filling it out?” Bruce’s words displayed wonder but his voice and facial expression didn’t fluctuate, causing the phrase to come out as more of a statement than a question.

                “I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

                “Hmm,” Bruce hummed much like Damian did when he was thinking, or perhaps it was the other way around. Damian would hum much like Bruce would. “Very well. I will be back in an hour. I want you sleeping by then or you’ll be taking sleeping pills.”

                “Yes, sir.”

                Bruce shut the door to Tim’s room without another word, leaving the third Robin to his own devices once again. Having been interrupted from his task, Tim took a moment to stare at the screen before him. He’d answered all the site’s basic questions. All that was left for him to do was to better his profile by responding to randomly generated questions that the site claimed would help find his perfect match.

                ‘We use statistics to measure your profile and compare it to potential matches to find you the best possible match. Raise your chances of finding potential partners by answering questions,’ the text above the question generator declared. ‘All your answers will be displayed on your profile and you can view your matches' answers on their own profiles. All questions will be displayed with a list of Strongly Agree, Agree, Somewhat Agee, Doesn’t Matter, Somewhat Disagree, Neither Agree nor Disagree, and Strongly Agree options. Some may appear with yes, no , or maybe options instead. Answer each question to the best of your ability to better your match results.’

                The instructions sounded simple enough but Tim wasn’t sure how sound the science was. He would bet that their statistics were less than accurate and that he’d have a better chance of finding a ‘potential partner’ by observing people on the street than by answering the site’s silly questions. Yet, he’d promised Stephanie…and Alfred…and even Bruce, sort of. So he clicked to answer randomly generated questions.

                                All’s Fair in Love and War: Somewhat Agree

                                I need to have Sex often to feel loved: Disagree

                                The most important part of a relationship is that the sex is good: Disagree

                                The most important part of a relationship is communication: Strongly Agree

                                I am a virgin: No.

                                I am more sexual then emotional: Neither Agree nor Disagree

                                I am a very emotional person: Somewhat Disagree

                                I like to live life on the edge: Somewhat Agree

                                Love at first sight is real: Neither Agree nor Disagree

                                I have children: No

                                I want children: Maybe

                Tim found himself losing track of time as he continued to answer questions. When there was, once again, a knock on his door he hastily shut his laptop and slid it under his bed. He was still bent over, slipping the device under his bed when the door opened and Bruce said, “Timothy.”

                “I’m going to bed, I swear,” Tim rolled his eyes, sitting up to look his mentor and father in the eyes. “I lost track of time. Sorry.”

                The broad-shouldered man folded his arms across his chest and fixed his third son with a deep blue stare. Tim had worked alongside both Batman and Bruce long enough to know that the older man wasn’t going to budge until he saw evidence that his wishes would be honored. So Tim pulled back the covers on his bed and slid himself beneath them.

Bruce stood there, in the doorway, until Tim had successfully tucked himself in. He watched as a too pale hand reached out and flicked the button inside the shade of a nearby lamp. With the lamp’s glow diminished, the bird snuggled into the pillows on his bed. He let out a soft, yawn before saying, “Good night, Bruce.”

“Good Night, Timothy,” Bruce bid the boy before leaving his room and nearly bumping into Alfred in the hallway.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred greeted his first charge. The butler had changed out of his clothes for the day and was wearing a pair of pajamas, a deep crimson colored robe, and a pair of slippers. “I thought I heard you wandering the halls. You ought to get some rest. Master Timothy will still be here in the morning. Trust me. I double checked the sensors around his room.”

A small, barely there smile upturned the corner of Bruce’s mouth. “I was just about to do that myself. I need to finish a report and then I’ll head to bed.”

“Like father like son, sir,” Alfred taunted with a smile.

“Tim’s a different case. I’m almost done with the report.”

“And how many times has he said the same to you? Master Bruce, if I may speak freely, if you wish for master Timothy to acquire a more adequate sleep schedule than perhaps you should set an example for him to follow.”

A ragged breath departed from Bruce, “out of all of my boys he is the most likely to work himself to death and I promise that tomorrow I will make sure he witnesses me going to bed at a decent time, but tonight I have to finish this report. I need to get the ends of this case tied up before I get much deeper into Tim’s. I won’t be able to patrol for a while if I have to spend the next few weeks as Malone.”

“Hopefully it will not be weeks,” Alfred remarked as he followed Bruce down the hall and towards the main staircase. “And might I suggest that after his case is complete that you put Red Robin on a required leave?”

“I’ve already considered that. Tim has been running himself ragged. You and I both can see the toll it is taking on him. He is not well and has too many medical issues to continue as he is for much longer. I would remove him from the roster now if I thought he’d abide by it, but since he won’t I plan to force a sabbatical on him as soon as his case to over.”

“You will need a way to make sure he remains on sabbatical for its full duration.”

Bruce nodded. “I’m sending him out of country on Wayne Enterprise business. It’ll be purely social. A way to make connections and to keep him off the streets for a couple weeks. We have some strained contacts in Europe that I might send him to secure. I’ve also considered Tokyo. Cassie said that I could send him to her as a consultant. I could have him help her with one of her new developments or to evaluate her applied science area. She has tried to convince me to give her Tim for a while now. Obviously, I can’t spare him permanently. He’s a driving force here in Gotham, at our home base, and Damian isn’t ready to take his position. Though Dick might be willing to step up and take on some of the responsibilities of Wayne Enterprises I know he doesn’t want them and Jason would flee the city if I so much as suggested him take it on.”

Bruce paused to open the Bat cave, via grandfather clock. “I can spare Tim for a week or two. Though Lucius might request a steadier presence from me in applied sciences. Working with Cass might help Tim relax, however. It might get his mind off the streets and with Cass there I know she’d make sure that there is no Red Robin business going on. If I send him on a social mission by himself Red Robin might appear in London. I haven’t decided which course of action to take yet.”

“Perhaps time will tell. Though I do hope that his current case is finished swiftly, I hope you have considered what month is arriving.”

“Don’t worry, Alfred. I won’t send him away over Thanksgiving. I know you’re set on having every one home for turkey.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“If you want the girls here too then you should tell Cass before she returns to Tokyo.”

“Always underestimating me,” Alfred’s eyes crinkled. “I have already spoken to her, Stephanie, and Richard. Master Dick has assured me that Jason will be at our table as well for Thanksgiving.”

“Let’s hope Damian is as agreeable.”

“If he is like his father than I am sure he will be ready to come home for Thanksgiving. You were always eager to return from your studies.”

“That’s because I knew you were here and your cooking has always been, and will always be, far better than any school cafeteria’s.”

“I should hope so. The day it isn’t will be the day of my doom.”

The chuckle Bruce gave in response resonated throughout the cave.


	6. Just Brotherly Concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian discovers that Tim has an online dating profile...but only because he has one of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that! Two chapters posted in one day. You all must be special :)

“I swear, man, this health book is like porn. Really gross, really disturbing STI porn,” Colin leaned back in his desk chair. His red hair reaching out behind him like the tiny tentacles of an irritated octopus.

                Damian sat at his own desk, which was positioned so his back was to his friend. The main light in their shared dorm room was off, but their built-in desk lamps illuminated half of the room in an almost eerie glow. With their window open, the chilled night breeze danced among them. The sounds of the basketball game going on outside their window followed the breeze in and tempted Colin, who’d Damian had convinced to study.

                “Ugh,” Colin groaned, throwing himself forward so his chair rocked onto all four of its legs and his head hit his text book with enough force to make a thud. “Remind me again why we’re in here looking at pictures of genital herpes instead of out there shooting hoops?”  

                “Because you failed the last test and if you don’t pass this class then you’ll have to repeat it. You don’t want to have to look at these pictures any more than you have to, do you?” Damian answered in a half-bored tone. In the two hours they’d been studying, he’d read and reread their last assigned chapter. Colin had barely made it through the chapter once. The red head was more concerned with the game than with his studies and had gotten up more than a few times to yell out the window and check the score.

                “If you spent as much time studying as you do complaining you could have already been done and out there by now,” Damian informed when Colin once again left his chair for the window.

                “And if you spent as much time socializing as you do studying you’d have a girlfriend,” Colin shot back.

                Damian frowned and stared down at the yellow highlighter marking up his textbook. His own neat scrip left comments along the outside margin of the pages. He was silent as he pretended to continue studying not giving any hint that Colin’s words had stung.

                Studying wasn’t the only reason Damian didn’t have a girlfriend. Part of the reason was because he hadn’t found a girl that captured his fancy. An even bigger part of it was that he wasn’t even sure that he liked girls. There was a pretty blond in his biology class that he tried to be attracted to. He’d flirted and even asked her on a date, but he hadn’t been even the slightest bit interested in anything she had to say while they were out. In truth, he was even interested in what she had to say in class. He’d really rather ignore everything that came out of her mouth and he wished that he could ignore that god-awful perfume she wore each and every day. He knew she was pretty. He’d heard fellow guys discussing her. Yet, he didn’t find her the slightest bit attractive.

                Damian had only had one girlfriend in his life and at first he’d though the reason their chemistry had faded so quickly was because they were only meant to be friends. Now though, a couple years later, he had to wonder if perhaps the chemistry hadn’t faded because of their friendship but because there had been none in the first place. Perhaps he’d just been excited to have a girlfriend and to be able to join in on his brothers’ conversations about relationships. Perhaps he hadn’t been giddy over being able to hold hands and kiss a girl, but more over the fact that he could hold the hands and kiss someone.

                Maybe girls just weren’t his thing. After all, he did notice the color of hair the guy who sits in front of him in Algebra had before he noticed that the girl next to him bit her lip when she was nervous. Still, even the guy in front of him didn’t seem like a good dating option. He just didn’t feel attracted…to anyone…and that worried him.

                Was there something wrong with him? Was it normal for someone to not feel attracted to anyone? As far he knew, attraction was normal. Grayson and Todd had been talking about what they found attractive or hot since he’d first met them. Even Drake would sometimes chime into their conversations. Over the years he’d learned much about his brothers’ tastes in mates.

                Dick liked red heads. He also liked strong, independent women, who didn’t need him. He liked being with someone who knew their worth and weren’t afraid to boss him around. Funny enough, Jason liked people who didn’t mind his bossy side. He liked his lovers to have a good sense of humor and to not be afraid to point out when he was being a douchebag. Damian figured that’s why the two of them worked so well together. They complimented each other in all the right ways.

                Then there was Tim…

                ...Tim rarely spoke of his emotions. He kept his feelings to himself most of the time, unless it was his irritation with Damian. All Damian knew of Tim’s attractions was that he apparently liked Kryptonians. He assumed the relationship Tim had with Superman’s clone was evidence that Tim preferred his mates to be strong and have anger issues. Of course it could have been the black hair and icy blue eyes that’d drawn Tim to the half kryptonian. Or maybe it’d been his chiseled chin. It couldn’t have been the child-like wonder the alien would get when he discovered something knew…could it? Hmm, Tim was certainly a mystery to him.

                Damian hadn’t met any of Tim’s lovers except the alien and Stephanie, and he didn’t count Stephanie because their relationship had settled into more of a best friend one. He saw Tim and Stephanie as being what he and Maps were; Two friends who’d thought they’d try their hands at dating, but then discovered that they were better off as friends.

                “Come on Dames,” Colin was still speaking and Damian wondered how much of his friend’s words he’d missed, “wouldn’t be fun to see the looks on your family’s face if you bring a girl home for Thanksgiving?”   

                “Even if I had a girlfriend, why would I bring her back to Gotham for Thanksgiving?”

                Colin blinked. “So she can meet your family. That’s sort of how these things work, Dames. You get a girl, you date her, you introduce her to your family, and if you don’t scare her away within a year you contemplate marriage. Then, if that works out you…”

                “I know how courting works,” Damian interrupted, “But why would I bring a girl home for a holiday? Would she not have her own family to visit?”

                “Eh, you sort of go back and forth. Like maybe she’d go to your place for Thanksgiving and you’d go to hers for a week of Christmas break, or something.”

                “Alfred would be wounded if I didn’t come home for a holiday.”

                “Not everyone has loving butlers who shower them with homecooked meals, Dames. Sometimes us normal people like to not go home. Take Chip, for instances…”

                “Chip?”

                “Yeah, you know Chip. Point guard? Brown hair? Spends most of his time shooting hoops in the gym? Sits in front of you in Algebra.”

                _‘Oh,’_ Damian thought, _‘the guy with good hair.’_

Instead, he said, “You mean the idiot who doesn’t know division from multiplication.”

“Yeah! Him! See, he’s already making plans to go home with Megan.” At Damian’s confused look, Colin added, “the girl who’s literally slept with the whole football team. He wants to spent Thanksgiving with her so he doesn’t have to go home and endure his parents arguing and his mom’s burnt gravy.”

“My father would not be pleased if I did such a thing and I am more than certain that Grayson would show up where I was staying and drag me back.”

“He is kind of off like that,” Colin agreed. “Still, wouldn’t you at least like to surprise them by telling them you have a girlfriend?”

“Tt,” Damian tutted. “I’d like to surprise them by out ranking Drake in academics.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not interested in basketball or dating. You’re really competitive.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested in dating. I merely stated that the idea of making the person I date go home with me for thanksgiving is odd.”

“Well, you don’t _make_ them. You offer. If you make them it’s called kidnapping.”

“Ha ha ha,” Damian gave a fake, dry laugh.

As minutes of silence ticked by, Damian thought he’d escaped any further conversation. He had finally gotten back to reading about the difference between Hep. A and Hep. B. Then his beautiful silence was interrupted by Colin coming over and pulling him and his chair away from his desk. 

“You know what? I’m tired of studying. Let’s go do something,” Colin declared as he shut Damian’s textbook.

“If you want to join the game then go,” Damian grumbled.

“Forget the game. This cute girl in my aerobics class invited me to a party tonight. I wasn’t going to go but we could use a break and you could use some socialization.”

“I don’t want to socialize. I want to study.”

“You can study when we get back. Let’s just go for a few minutes. We can come back after a little bit, promise. It’s just across campus.”

“You go. I’m not.”

“Come on, Dames.”

“No, Wilkes. Go. I’m staying.”

“Fine, you know what, we won’t go to the party. We go to the game. We won’t even leave the room,” Colin conceded, “but you have to get online and check the dating profile you set up last month.”

Damian groaned at the mention of his online dating profile. Being a member of Loves Arrow was not something he bragged about. It wasn’t even something he wanted to remember. He’d attempted to deactivate his account several times but had been intercepted by his roommate each time. So, the profile remained, a testament to the fact that Colin had managed to get him to go out drinking for once and proof that he doesn’t make good decisions when intoxicated.

Damian had woken up the morning after his first major drinking experience to discover his dating profile open on his laptop and four messages waiting for him in his inbox. He’d almost died when he opened the messages and saw that he’d been sexting with four guys for a couple hours the night before.

“What the hell, Wilkes!” he’d exclaimed. “Why would you let me do this?”

“You’re the one that insisted on it,” Colin had informed him. “You said you wanted to try online dating because there was no one near you that’s dating material. Not my fault that drunk you is apparently lonely and desperate.”

“I am neither lonely nor desperate!”

“Tell that to the four guys you were sexting, which -by the way -was very disturbing to walk in on. You were video chatting with a guy from Taiwan and I did _not_ need to see your hand down your pants. Also, did you know that drunk you is also gay? Like how does that work? Are you bi? You date girls but then when you’re drunk you play with guys?”

“I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing. I would never, under any circumstances, do that sober.”

Damian wanted to bash his head into his desk as Colin was already opening Damian’s laptop and logging into it. Curse him for having told the red head his password.

“Just for fun,” Colin assured as he pulled up the Loves Arrow website. “We’ll just see if anyone has messaged you or if any of your new matches are really hot girls.”

“I don’t see the amusement in this,” Damian rolled his eyes heavenward. He rocked backward in his chair, staring up at the ceiling and pointedly ignoring Colin as he perused his profile.

“Really?” Colin’s voice hitched as he tried to smother a laugh, “Because you might want to see who popped up on your newsfeed as a match.”

“I don’t care, Colin,” Damian stated. “I don’t care if it’s the hottest girl in the world or one of the guys I apparently would have ‘gave it all’ to.”

“Even if it’s Tim Drake?”

“What?”

Damian’s eyes snapped to his laptop at the mention of Drake’s name. Colin couldn’t be serious, could he? Oh, but he was. Right there, on Damian’s screen, were the words, ‘Your top match’ and beneath them was Drake’s picture.

Timothy Drake, 24, Gotham, Applied Sciences.

“Glad we looked now? You can hold this over him for the rest of his life if it isn’t some drunk moment like yours,” Colin stated.

Damian couldn’t even find words as he stared at the laughing face of Timothy Drake. He remembered exactly when Drake’s profile picture had been taken. It’d been shortly before he’d left for school. He’d been at the table, trying not to appear amused with Grayson and Todd’s story about his father wearing eyeliner on patrol. His father had been there too, so had the girls and Alfred. Most of them had been crowded around the breakfast nook in the kitchen, but Drake had been leaning against the island.

Damian could remember noticing how the bright green of Tim’s shirt stood out against his too pale skin. Drake was always pale. Father claimed it was from his medical issues. Grayson and Todd joked that it was from all the time Tim spent in the Cave, obsessing over cases.

Drake had never been good at taking care of himself. He could feed himself, bathe himself, and clothe himself, but remembering to take his medication and to get an adequate amount of sleep seemed to be difficult for him.

The picture before Damian was of a happy Drake. A drake that wasn’t plagued by exhaustion and a seemingly never ending case. It was hard to picture him smiling when Damian had received multiple phone calls and messages from his father and brothers regarding the recent decline in Drake’s health.

Being at the university prevented Damian from actively helping with Tim’s recent case, though his father believed that if they could help solve the case then Tim’s health would rise. Damian hoped that his father had a plan to send Drake on a vacation, for just solving a case wouldn’t help the red bird. Tim would only find another case to obsess over. Even so, Damian would do what he could to help. Though he would never tell Drake that he was doing so willingly.

Looking into Drake’s suspects and his suspect’s allies was hardly an exertion. However, he did find it strange that all records he found claimed that Drake’s main suspect was dead. Even half of the allies were marked deceased. Still, he searched. He looked at all records regarding the hotel Drake was looking into and ran background checks on everyone listed as employed there. Grayson and Todd were supposed to be getting back to him about a stakeout they were doing at the residence Damian had found listed under properties owned by the hotel.  Likewise, his father was supposed to be getting him a new list of employees, which he would acquire from Drake if all things went according to plan.

Damian wondered briefly if perhaps Drake had set up an online profile to further his case. It was possible that he used it help with his cover. Yet, if he was using it to help with his case why would he use his true identity? Surly Drake wasn’t trying to infiltrate a prostitution ring as himself. He must have gone undercover. Using his true identity would be the move of an idiot. And Drake may be a lot of things but he wasn’t an idiot. He was one of the smartest people Damian knew. He’d probably already been working on plan A all the way through Z. He probably knew move about his target than Damian could hope to learn, but that was something Damian would never admit out loud.

One of the reason’s Damian had hated Drake so much at the beginning of his time as Robin was because Drake was so much smarter than him. He had hated that Drake was superior and he hated that his father had practically stated that he planned to hand the family business over to Drake.

As the years had progressed he’d grown accustomed to Drake and now Damian was comfortable enough around him to not try to kill him every chance he got. They’d even created a few good memories together. Like the time after Drake’s profile picture had been taken, when they’d washed dishes together.

“So, college?” Damian had been slightly irritated when Drake had broken their easy silence that night to attempt small talk. He’d been quite enjoying the night and hadn’t wanted Drake to say anything that could potentially start an argument between them and therefore ruin the ending of a perfect day.

“Tt. Really, Drake? Small talk?” Damian had scoffed and placed a clean plate on the drying rack Drake had been trying so hard to empty.

“Sorry.”

After that there had been silence for a few moments but it’d been so thick…so unlike the comfortable silence from before, that Damian felt the need to interrupt it. “Yeah, college. The university is the best in the state and ranked second in the country. Father thinks it’ll be good for me.”

“And you don’t?”

“Tt, I’m hoping the work is adequately challenging and that my professors are brighter than I, though the probability of that happening is slim to none.”

“I don’t know, Damian, when I attended it was pretty difficult. Obviously, I had an easier time with the work than most of my peers but it still served to challenge me. Do you know what classes you’re taking this semester?”

“A variety of introduction courses.”

“Any math? Or science?”

“Algebra and Biology.”

“If you don’t have Professor Davison for biology you should see about transferring. He’s the best science teacher they have and he doesn’t take attendance.”

                “Why would I not show up for class?” Damian’s face twisted into a scowl as he realized that Drake had admitted to skipping class. “Why did _you_ not show up for class?”

                “I didn’t mean it like that. He just doesn’t care if you’re in class if you do well on the work. I had him at eight in the morning and sometimes I’d do some Red Robin work the night before. If I was too tiered, I’d skip his class because as long as you have high grades he doesn’t care if you’re there or not. Plus, he posts all his lectures online. I’d listen to the lectures that way.”

                Damian Hummed in thought. “I shall keep that in mind. However, Father is adamant that I forsake my duties as Robin while at the university. He wishes for me to focus solely on my studies.”

                “Understandable. Patrol might be harder for you anyway, since you’re living on campus. I rented an apartment nearby.”

                “A path I considered, but Colin is also attending and he was excited to room together.”

                Drake had laughed, much to Damian’s dismay, and Damian knew that the older boy had always thought there was more between Colin and him than the younger was admitting. The blush that made its way up Damian’s neck at Drake’s laughter was embarrassing and unwanted. Damian tried hard to get rid of it as Tim started laughing harder. He was allowed a moment of pause when Drake’s laughter trailed off into an uneasy sound and his face scrunched up in a confused way that was almost cute. Almost.

                “You know what,” Damian spoke to Colin, who’d clicked on Drake’s profile and was scrolling through it, “why don’t you go ahead to that party. I’ll stay here and look through Drake’s profile. I’m sure there is something on here I could use as black mail.”

                “I could help you.”

                “You’d be bored. Go hang out with that girl you mentioned and if you hook up, please have the courtesy to do it at her place.”

                Colin laughed as he agreed to Damian’s terms and grabbed his jacket before leaving. Once he was gone, Damian was reading through Drake’s profile. He considered shutting down his laptop and pretending that he never saw that Drake had a profile, after all who was he to make waves when he himself had set up a profile too? But, he knew how the site worked, and he knew that Drake would receive a message saying that Damian had viewed his profile. Even though Damian hadn’t used his current legal name, Drake would still know it was him. He might as well just leave a message.

                It wasn’t like that night with those four guys. He wasn’t writing to Drake because he was lonely and found the other boy attractive. He was writing because if he didn’t Drake would probably text him anyway once he discovered that Damian had a profile. That was it. That was the only reason. He didn’t find Drake to be attractive at all. It’s not like he paid attention to how well kept Drake’s hair was or how he always smelled like mint. He didn’t care if his stomach sometimes did little flips when Drake laughed. No. He didn’t. Even if he did, he wasn’t ready to admit it. To himself or anyone else. This was just a simple message.

                ‘Drake? Am I to assume that you were pushed into this site by an outside force too? Or did you come willingly?”

                Yeah, that ought to do it. A simple message with no underlying innuendoes or hints of attraction. It was just Damian chatting with his brother. That’s all it was. Just some brotherly concern.


	7. The Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred and Bruce force Tim to eat breakfast and he finds the message Damian left for him on his dating profile.

With all the time he spent at Titan’s Tower, Tim had almost forgotten what it was like to wake up in his room at Wayne Manor. In his groggy state, with his eyes still half shut, it’d taken him a moment to remember where he was. All he knew when he awoke was that the bed he was in was far too soft to be the one he claimed at the tower and that the room around him smelled of lemon cleaning supplies instead of stale Dorito chips.

                “Mmmm,” Tim grumbled groggily as a knock sounded at his door.

                “Master Timothy, it is time to wake up. Your breakfast will be cold if you dilly dally any longer,” Alfred’s familiar voice sounded from the other side of the door.

                “I’m not hungry,” the response was almost automatic at this point, for Tim. He’d been saying those words for months. Skipping meals in favor of working on his case and snacking on Doritos throughout the day. At first his stomach had protested slightly. It’d growled and demanded his attention, but he’d ignored it and promised it a snack if it could just wait a little while longer.

                A little while longer always ended up being a lot longer, though. A few seconds would turn into minutes, which would turn into hours, which had led him to the point that he’d accidently trained himself to push away food. Saying, “I’m not hungry,” became an instinct as he found himself eating less and less every day. He wasn’t worried, however. It’s not like he was bulimic or something. He didn’t have a poor self-image, he just didn’t have time to eat. As soon as the case was over he’d head to his favorite burger joint with his team and buy everyone the biggest meals the place had. Until then he could survive living off chips and coffee.

                “You can’t survive on junk food,” he could almost hear Kon’s voice telling him, like it’d had persistently when he’d first started working on his case. “You need to eat something healthy. Even if it’s just a carrot.”

                “I’m fine,” Tim had repeatedly told his then boyfriend while munching on licorice or whatever other junk food he’d had laying on his desk.

                Eventually Kon had stopped requesting that Tim eat something. Instead, once a day one of their team members would approach Tim and say something like, “Hey, we’re going out for pizza. Wanna come?”

                “Wish I could, but I can’t. I have an interview tonight for that hotel I’m after. If all goes well I’ll be able to infiltrate the prostitution ring.”

                Yeah, that excuse hadn’t lasted long. It’d quickly turned from, “I’ll be able to infiltrate the prostitution ring,” to “Sorry, guys, Tabby has to work tonight.” And somewhere between the two not only did Kon start being around the Tower less and less, but he’d started talking about a friend he’d made. Tim was now fully convinced that friend was Kon’s now girlfriend, even though Kon had never come out and said it.

                “If you think I’m going to buy that excuse, young man, then you are far dafter then I thought you to be,” Alfred’s sharp tone pulled Tim back to reality. “Your father use to try to use the same excuse on me. It didn’t work for him and it certainly won’t work for you. Get up, dress, and come down stairs to eat. If I do not see you seated at the table in thirty minutes than I will personally drag you out of your room and dispose of your laptop.”

                “Cruel, Alfred. Cruel,” Tim mumbled into his pillow but proceeded to get up, nonetheless.

                Getting out of bed proved to be more tedious than Tim anticipated as his foot caught the cord of his laptop, which was peeking out from under his bed from where he’d left the device the night before. He stumbled forward, putting out a hand to catch himself on his nightstand. His knees hit the floor with a soft thud.

                Cursing his moment of clumsiness, Tim stood and made his way over to his dresser. He stood there, in front of the large wooden contraption for a moment as he stared at his reflection in the mirror above the dresser.

                His dark hair was a mess atop his head, his skin paler than what would be considered healthy, and there was a set of seemingly permanent dark lines beneath his baby blues. Still, he could be worse off. He was just tired. Even so, he reached out to grasp the pill box laying atop his dresser.

                The small blue box had labeled compartments for every day of the week and they’d recently been refilled. He never used the box unless he was at the manor. He normally just opened his pill bottles, dumped the correct number of pills into his hands, and downed them with a glass of water. Alfred was precise, though, and Bruce was even worse than him when it came to his third son’s medications.

                That morning he opened the day’s designated compartment on the pill box, and swallowed the four pills dry. A pill for his splenectomy, a pill for his immune system, a pill for allergies, and he assumed the fourth pill was an immune booster. When at the manor, Alfred and Bruce always tried to stuff him full of medication to keep his immune system in as tip top shape as it could be. Alfred had also, most likely, added and array of vitamin supplements to the breakfast waiting for him down stairs.

                As Tim pulled on a fresh pair of clothes he contemplated ways he could get away from the breakfast table early. He wanted to get down to the cave and use its computer system to help his case along. He also needed to call Dick and Jason, since Bruce had made it clear that the two older birds had already started their work on Tim’s case. He should catch up with them and compare notes so they didn’t formulate a plan that would throw his own off track.

                The twenty-four year old swiped his phone of his nightstand on his way out the door. He didn’t bother to check it for messages just yet as he headed down to the kitchen.

                Unsurprisingly, Alfred was seated at the breakfast nook when Tim entered the kitchen. What was surprising was that Bruce was there too. A quick glance at the clock hanging above the stove told Tim what he’d already suspected, it was far too late for Bruce to still be at the manor. It was nearing ten and, on a normal day, Bruce would already be gone. However, Bruce currently sat across from Alfred at the breakfast nook. A plate with a half-eaten omelet, along with a cup of steaming hot coffee, sat in front of the patriarch.

                “Good morning,” Tim greeted as he swung by the coffee pot to get himself his own mug of heaven.

                “Oh no you don’t,” Alfred scolded. “Put that coffee down. You’re having orange juice this morning.”

                “What?” Tim blinked, taken aback. “But I always have coffee in the morning.”

                Bruce’s deep chuckle resonated throughout the kitchen when Alfred remarked, “You always have coffee all the time. Your state of health is much too low for it today. Until we see an improvement with your health you will be drinking juice, milk, and other healthy options.”

                “B-but…Bruce!” Tim stammered. “Tell Alfred he can’t do this.”

                “Alfred can do whatever he wants to,” Bruce commented with a small smile, “and I, personally, agree with his decision. No coffee until your health improves.”

                “That’s not fair!”

                “We’ll talk about fair when you show that you’re capable of taking care of yourself.”

                “Are you serious?”

                “As serious as the grave.”

                Tim plopped down at the breakfast nook with a huff of defeat. He was twenty-four. Why did Bruce and Alfred still think it was acceptable to dictate how he took care of himself? It wasn’t there body they were denying coffee and forcing vitamins down. Tim was eighty percent sure that if it was they’d be a lot more understanding.

                “Fine,” Tim grumbled as Alfred pushed a plate towards him. He glared at the omelet for a moment, not bothering to pick his head up off the table, before grabbing his fork. He took his sweet time cutting the egg up as he listened to Bruce and Alfred talk about the latest news at Wayne Enterprises and how Gotham’s sports teams were doing.

                “You’ve cut it small enough,” Bruce remarked after fifteen minutes and Tim finally picked up his head to look at him. The older man’s gaze was hard as steel as it glanced at Tim’s plate. “Take a bite.”

                Tim had to fight against pouting. Inside he was throwing a temper tantrum like a two year old, but on the outside he merely stared down at his mutilated omelet before scooping part of it up on his fork and forcing himself to eat the bite. His stomach churned as he swallowed the bite of omelet, but Bruce’s eyes -not to mention Alfred’s -were still focused on him. He had to keep eating or he had no doubt that Bruce would hold him down while Alfred force fed him.

                “Mmm, it’s delicious,” Tim spoke after swallowing a second bite. “Good job, Alfred.”

                Alfred raised a brow and Bruce scoffed, but Tim’s comment and his action to continue eating resulted in relaxing the stares he was getting from the two older men. He took a couple more bites, to insure they wouldn’t jump on him if he put the fork down, before fishing his phone out of his pocket.

                He checked his messages and his favorite social media sites, before he’d run out of things to keep him occupied. He could feel Bruce’s eyes back on him so he took another bite of his breakfast and then reached for his orange juice as he told his phone to go to the Loves Arrow dating website. He didn’t really care to check his profile, but he needed something to make himself look busy as he pretended not to notice that Bruce and Alfred were now talking about him and his health again.

                _Congratulations, someone messaged you!_

                The words appeared on his screen, along with a blinking number 1 that alerted him to where the message was located. In all honesty, he clicked the number 1 to stop it from blinking, not because he cared to see its message. Yet, when he opened said message he choked. Orange juice spewed from his mouth as he sputtered and coughed around the liquid that’d found itself way down the wrong pipe. Alfred was up, grabbing napkins, and Bruce was patting him on the back as if he were a child.

                “Woah, you’re okay,” Bruce was saying as Alfred took the glass of orange juice from Tim. “You’re okay.”

                “I know,” Tim almost growled as he shoved Bruce away from him. He had enough sense to place his phone face down on the seat beside him before glaring at his adopted father. “I’m not a kid, Bruce. I’m not going to drown on orange juice.”

                “Could have fooled me,” Bruce growled back.

                “What on earth startled you?” Alfred inquired.

                “Uh, nothing,” Tim glanced at his phone. “Just a picture from the team. The things they get into when I’m not around.” The laugh he offered was weak but both Bruce and Alfred didn’t ask any more questions.

                “Right,” Bruce nodded and moved to stand. “Finish your omelet and your juice. I have a meeting to get to.”

                “Have fun,” Tim stated.

                Tim did as he was told and finished eating his omelet, but he only ended up drinking half of his juice before pushing both cup and plate away from him. As he picked up his phone, Alfred gathered the breakfast dishes.  He waited until the older man was at the sink before reopening the message he’d so violently closed.

                _Damian Wayne: Drake? Am I to assume that you were pushed into this site by an outside force too? Or did you come willingly?_

Tim didn’t know what he should freak out about first. The fact that Damian Wayne had an online dating account, the fact that he’d found Tim’s profile, or the fact that he’d messaged Tim. The third Robin stared at the message for a few moments before closing it. After all, how was he supposed to respond to it? If he told Damian the truth the little demon would mock him forever.

                With the message closed his screen filled with a list of possible matches. The rows of guys and girls that showed up seemed less threatening than Damian’s message, so he allowed himself to linger on them for a bit before scrolling back to the top of the matches page. He must have accidently scrolled down it when he’d freaked out about Damian’s message. When he reached the top, however, he discovered that not even his list of matches was safe to look at.

                There, on the top of his screen was written _‘Your top match’_ and below it rested a picture of Damian Wayne.

                “What the fuck,” Tim breathed out. “There’s no way in hell.”

                “Excuse me?” Alfred inquired.

                “Huh? Not you, Al, just…something the team said. I’ve got to go make a call,” Tim absentmindedly left the kitchen and headed back towards his room.

                How could the site possibly think that Damian Wayne and him were a good match? This was undeniable proof that Stephanie was wrong and he was right, the site’s statistics were flawed. There was no way that Damian Wayne would be a good match for him. They may have moved past trying to kill each other but Tim was certain that Damian still wasn’t a fan of him. There had to be a mistake. Or maybe Damian had accidently stumbled onto his profile and hacked the site so he could freak out Tim by convincing him that the site thought they were matches. Yeah, that had to be it. It was all an elaborate prank.


	8. Maybe He's Busy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian finds out that Tim has viewed the message he sent him but hasn't responded. Needless to say, he isn't a fan or being ignored.

_Seen. 10:02_

Damian glared down at the single word that’d been haunting him for the better part of the day. It was strategically placed just beneath the message he’d left for Drake on the Loves Arrow site and alerted him that his words had been viewed. Yet, he’d received no reply.

When he’d first realized that his message had been seen he’d been leaving his second class of the day, with Collin, and was on his way to the campus bookstore to pick up a package someone had sent him. That someone had been, unsurprisingly, Dick and Damian had barely had time to rush back to his room and throw the cardboard box on his bed before bolting across campus for his third class.

“Who are you texting?” Colin had inquired on their way to the bookstore. He’d noticed his roommate checking his phone repeatedly during their shared class and he had to wonder who -or what -had captured Damian’s attention in such a way. Normally, Damian didn’t text much. He was barely social and saying he was social was really pushing it, considering the only people he hung out with on campus was Colin and Lian…and Lian was barely present since she was a senior and involved in an internship.

Colin figured the only other people Damian would be texting would be his father or his oldest brother. Although, Bruce normally called when he wanted to speak with Damian and Damian wasn’t ever as eager as he was acting to read any of Dick’s texts. In fact, Damian had purposely ignored his oldest brother’s messages several times in the past.

There was the chance that the Wayne boy was messaging Alfred, or Jason and Tim, but they were even more unlikely. It all left Colin curious to know who Damian was conversing with.

“No one,” Damian furrowed his brow and suddenly stopped walking.

A couple of girls, who’d been walking behind them, spat out some choice words at their sudden stop and Colin rushed to apologize for his obviously unashamed friend. Damian didn’t pay the girls or Colin’s prompting to apologize, any mind as he stared down at his phone. His face scrunched up quickly before he huffed and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Come on,” Damian urged, as if he weren’t the one to stop traffic right outside a classroom building. “We need to hurry or we’ll be late for class.”

Colin scoffed, “like it’d do us any harm. It’s not like we’re learning anything from it. Seriously, it’s a waste of time. Why did you ever think that taking Karate for our P.E credit would be a good idea?”

“It’s an easy course,” Damian stated. “It’s an A we don’t have to worry about studying for.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I still would have liked to take Yoga.”

“Tt, that’s because it’d be full of girls.”

“Mmm hmm,” Colin hummed with a goofy grin on his face.

Damian’s jade eyes rolled. “You would have failed because you wouldn’t be concentrating on the material. When the professor asked you to do a downward facing dog you’d probably say something like, ‘I’d like to help Megan do a downward facing dog,’ and then get kicked out of class.”

“You know, your words can hurt sometimes,” Colin faked hurt. “Seriously, though, I think yoga could have been good for me. I’ve seen you use meditation to endure some pretty sticky situations before.”

“Mind over matter. Naturally meditation helps you achieve a level of endurance where you can block out physical pain enough to survive,” Damian stated, “but the same can be accomplished with simple breathing techniques. It’s not the ritual that helps, it’s the willpower behind it. If you want to survive a beating from a vicious criminal than half of the fight of doing so is to convince yourself that you can. You can gain these skills through Karate as well. Yoga is not the only source.”

The conversation had become dull after that and Karate class hadn’t been much more entertaining as their professor had the class pair up and run through a series of blocks he’d taught them. Damian had been doing the blocks since he was a toddler, just learning to stand. He didn’t even have to think to swing his arm in just the right way. Which turned out to be a good thing since he was incapable of keeping his mind off his phone.

Damian’s thoughts kept wandering to the message he’d sent to Drake and that stupid word that’d showed up below it. As his professor called out the numbers of the blocks in Japanese he wondered why Drake hadn’t responded to his message.

 _‘It’s still fairly early in the day,’_ Damian reminded himself. _‘Perhaps he hasn’t had the time to reply.’_

As Karate class ended and Damian gather his belongings to head to lunch, he paused in the gym to check his phone once more. There had been no change. His message remained unanswered.

Colin hoisted his own bag onto his shoulders and slapped Damian on the back before asking again, “Who are you texting?”

“No one,” was Damian’s repeated response from earlier that morning, before he once again shoved his phone in his pocket.

 _‘Father said that Drake would be home this week. Perhaps he’s at the company. If so, he won’t have time to respond until his lunch break…which is usually around noon or one, depending on when Fox is able to pull him away from their work.’_ Damian shook away his thoughts as he and Colin headed to the campus cafeteria.

                After Lunch, Damian’s mood only got worse. As the day went on and his phone continued to tell him that Drake hadn’t taken the time to type back even the simplest reply. Damian did not apricate Drake’s silence, nor did he apricate being ignored, maybe Drake had forgotten about the message? He could be a scatter brain sometimes and if he was busy working Damian’s message could have certainly slipped his mind. He’d just have to remind him of it.

                _Drake?_

                There, now Drake would get an alert reminding him that there was still a message waiting for him to respond.

                Damian didn’t check his phone again until well after dinner that night. Colin was gone, working a shift at the cafeteria, and Damian was left alone in their room. He’d been working on his math homework when his phone lit up with a message. Had anyone else been present in the room he would have denied the haste he’d used to drop his pencil and grab his phone from where it rested, nestled in the compartment of his lamp that normally held whatever loose change he had on him.

                His calculator lay forgotten as it graphed the equation he’d just finished entering in it and the space besides the number 19 he’d written in his notebook was blank. His pencil rolled, falling off the desk and under his chair, but he didn’t care as he rushed to enter his passcode into his phone.

                All of Damian’s excitement died, however, when he saw that the alert wasn’t from his profile on Loves Arrow, even though he’d specifically turned on the site’s alerts so he’d know when Tim had messaged him back. Instead, the message was from Dick.

                “We checked out the house. Nice yard but the interior was a bust.”

                Damian absolutely did not slump in his chair. Of course, the message was from Dick. He and Jason had to inform him of how the stake out went. And, if the message was anything to go by, it hadn’t gone well. The youngest bird knew that Dick’s message had meant that they’d come out of the stake out empty handed.

                He sent a quick text back in response because that’s what normal people did. When someone messaged them they responded back. It was only polite.

                “If you didn’t like that one I have more options. There’s a nice place on 53rd you might like. Roomy one story with a basement and bomb shelter. You could convert the shelter or basement into a rec room.” 

                “A basement AND a bomb shelter?” Dick’s response was quick. “Jay and I are all over it! Think of the guests that could be entertained!”

                And then Damian was texting them the full address, knowing that within the next couple of days the two oldest birds would be delivering him either news that they didn’t like the building or that it was the perfect home. Honestly, Damian hoped it was the second option, though he knew the first was more likely. People like the guy they were after didn’t like to stay in one place very long. It’d take some time to find his most recent nest, but when they did they should be able to get enough evidence to end Tim’s case.

                Speaking of Tim…Damian tapped the screen of his phone to open his Loves Arrow profile. Maybe he’d selected the wrong button when turning on the site’s message alerts and Tim had already messaged him back. Damian tossed his phone down with a huff when he saw this to not be true.

                Drake had seen the message at 10:02 am. It was now 7:50 pm. What was taking him so long to respond? Maybe he should just text him…but no, he hadn’t texted Drake in months. He didn’t even know for sure if he had the right number for the other man. He assumed he did, he figured his father would have told him if the number had changed, but still. He didn’t text Drake. That’s just not how their relationship worked. In fact, he never messaged Drake at all. Maybe messaging him the other night hadn’t been a good idea.  He had just been trying to be nice. Dick was always saying that Damian needed to be nicer to Tim and yet, here he was, putting in the effort and it was being ignored.

                “Ugh,” Damian groaned. His head hurt. He need to just let things be. It wouldn’t change his life if Drake messaged him back or not. What would change his life is if he didn’t get his math assignment finished by class the next day.

                Setting his phone aside, Damian made the decision not to touch his phone for the rest of the night. At least not until he finished his math and did his nightly exercises.

                Yet, when Colin arrived at their room an hour later, Damian was laying in the middle of their floor and glaring up his phone. Once again, Colin asked, “Who are you texting?”  and once again Damian responded with, “No one.”


	9. Tabby Degarmo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has to work at the hotel and Matches shows up to help his case along. On top of that, Damian has become persistent in messaging him.

The music was blasting though the darkened room that was Hotel Ganders’ night time entertainment. Neon lights swooped across the room, the black lights that were mixed in with them lit up the white table cloths decorating each table. Girls in skimpy outfits served the patrons seated at the tables. Their walks weren’t so much as a flitter as it was a meander. The manager insisted that the waitresses walked slow to give their patrons a good show. They were to wear heels at all times -heels with heights that were ankle threatening -and smile sweetly at the guests.

                The waitresses’ outfits were all the same. Short leather skirts and a top that barely concealed anything, tied just below the bosom. The heels they wore were gold and added six inches to their height. Glittery gold eyeshadow was delicately swept across their eye lids as matching gold lip gloss coated their honey sweet smiles.

                Tim watched a few of the waitresses flirt with their tables as they tried to ensure a big tip. There were a lot of big names in the Ganders that night. Oswald Cobblepot, a couple Zuccos, Black Mask, even a few gang leaders Tim knew from the streets. None of them were the reason Tim was wasting his precious fifteen minute break spying out the door of the ladies room, though. He was looking for someone else. For someone much more meaner.

                Bruce had informed Tim that Matches Malone would be making an appearance at Tabby’s workplace that night and that Tim would be requested to replace whatever waitress he got. Of course, Tim knew that such a simple request was just the beginning of the requests that would be made to help him inch his way into the inner workings of the hotel’s crime world. None of the requests would go anywhere. They were only for show, but Tim had to be ready to think on his feet when it came to them.

                Tim slipped back into the ladies room as his fifteen minutes were almost up. If Bruce didn’t arrive soon then even Tim was going to start flirting for some extra tips. He’d been prudish for most of the night and his manger had started giving him the stink eye. He knew that if he didn’t turn around his act soon Tabby would be getting into some serious trouble and he didn’t want to blow the case because he didn’t act the part.  

                Walking over to the large mirror that ran above all four of the sinks in the restroom, Tim patted at his hair. Or, rather, he patted at Tabby Degarmo’s hair.  Her charcoal locks flowed beautifully over his slender shoulders and she’d accented her eyes with some dark eyeliner that night. Of course, the required glittery golden eyeshadow was also on her eyes, just as the matching lipstick covered her smile. The layer of foundation beneath her makeup had been applied evenly and almost too naturally that it made Tim wonder if perhaps he went undercover as a girl far too often.

                She reached down, adjusting the top over the fake breasts that had magically turned Timmy into Tabby. Gold body glitter covered the exposed breasts and continued down over her flat stomach. Even though Tim didn’t have quite the right hips for a girl his figure was still slim enough that he could pull off the outfit forced upon him by management. Had it been months earlier, when he was still eating regularly and his abs had been more noticeable, he would have had less luck.  As it was, with the leather skirted outfit, shaved legs and arms, and six-inch gold heels that revealed his gold painted toes, he came off looking like a pretty girl. He still would have been more comfortable in a gown at a gala though. He was sure that after this case was over he’d never complain about having to attend a gala as Bruce’s arm candy ever again. That sure beat being eyed like a piece of meat at the hotel.

                “Tabby? There you are!” a redhead by the name of Monica rushed into the restroom. She was dressed the same as Tim and had a frantic look in her eyes. “Clarence is looking for you.”

                “Shit,” Tim…er, Tabby, exclaimed in the higher pitched voice that she’d been developing since the first time she’d had to play the part of a girl. “I’ve been off my game all night. If he finds me he’ll can me for sure.”

                “He went to the kitchen looking for you. Just get back out there and start workin’ your stuff,” Monica urged. “At this point, there’s no such thing as laying it on too thick.”

                She was right about that. If Tabby had any hope of staying employed by the hotel she better lay her charms on real thick for the rest of the night. If she didn’t pull enough interest, then Clarence Westwood would drop her the first chance he got and that would put a kink in Tim’s plans.

                As Tabby headed back out on the floor, she instantly headed towards one of her designated tables. An older man with silver hair and a pressed suit sat there. He’d been accompanied by a variety of mean looking men throughout the night. Now, however, he sat alone and was staring at the dancers on the stage.

                “Hello, Mr. Garfield,” Tabby batted her eyelashes at the man. She bent slightly, resting a hand atop the table and tilted her head to the side. “How’s everything tasting tonight?”

                “Hmm? Good,” the man answered in almost a trance and Tabby had to stop herself from huffing as she caught the manager watching her out of the corner of her eye. She needed to get this guy’s attention off the dancers and on to her.

                “You sure there isn’t anything I can’t do for you, sweetie?” Tabby giggled. “Hotel Ganders is a dream come true. You wish it, I give it.”

                “No. I’m fine,” The man’s attention remained fixed on the stage and the girl clinging to the pole closest to him.

                “Fine,” Tabby mumbled. “If you need anything just wave.”

                Clarence was heading her direction and Tabby mentally braced herself for the mother of all lectures. She prepared to be grabbed by the shoulder and to be twisted around any second, but was instead stopped by Monica.

                “Hey, there’s a guy at the east corner table who requested you,” Monica stated.

                Clarence, who had caught up to Tabby and was now standing just a few inches behind her, halted.

                “Malone?” Clarence’s voice was deep and carried a bite. One of his large mocha hands clasped around Tabby’s wrist as he pulled her back into his chest. His voice was hot on her ear when he said, “Malone is a big fish, girly. You know what that means. You screw this up and you can kiss your career here goodbye. I’ll make sure you can’t get a gig anywhere in Gotham City. The clear, tramp?”

                Tabby gulped. She couldn’t afford to lose her job. She had college classes to pay for and a sick mom. Not to mention a possessive boyfriend who expected her to bring home the dough. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

                That scared tone in Tabby’s voice came as easily as doing her makeup had to Tim. She pushed herself away from Clarence in the most graceful manner she could before slowly, ever so slowly, making her way to Malone’s table.

                “Hey there, handsome,” Tabby flipped her hair and batted her eyes a little too sweetly. Her voice coming out like honey. “What can I get for ya tonight?”

                Malone’s eyes wandered over her form and even though Tim knew it was just for show, the gaze unnerved him a bit. Bruce better not tell any of the other birds about this.

                “How about a nice big bowl of you, sweet cheeks?” Malone’s voice was rough. Not in the way that Batman’s was, more in a long-term smoker type of way.

                Tabby giggled and flipped her hair again. “Oh, you. If only I was that type of girl.”

                “You aren’t?”

                “I work the floors, handsome, not the backrooms,” Tabby pouted.

                “Hmmm,” Malone’s hand came up to grip Tabby’s waist. “Well, maybe someday that’ll have to change.”

                “A girl can hope. In the meantime, Mr. Malone, is there anything else I can getcha’. I could recommend a girl if you like. I hear all the guys like Sabrina.”

                “I’ll take the Chef’s special and I bet the only reason Sabrina gets so much attention is because you aren’t working against her.”

                Beneath her skirt, strapped to her upper thigh, Tabby felt her phone vibrate. She ignored it as she took Malone’s order and brought him a tall, cold glass of beer.

                “Anything else, sweetie?” Tabby inquired of her patron, who’d shifted his attention from the dancers to her as soon as she’d come back into the room from the kitchen.

                “How about some company until my dinner arrives?”

                “Oh, I don’t think my boss would approve.”

                “That your boss?” Malone, Bruce, nodded at the tall, buff figure of Clarence.

                “Yes, sir.”

                With two fingers, Malone was waving Clarence over.

                “Mr. Malone,” Clarence greeted. “Is something wrong?”

                “No. Everything’s perfect. I was just hoping I could steal some of this lady’s time,” Malone pulled a folded hundred dollar bill from the pocket of his jacket and Clarence took it without hesitation.

                “She doesn’t do backroom,” Clarence informed.

                “Yes, I know. It’s a shame. I’d still like to keep her ‘till I leave.”

                “Consider her yours then. I’ll assign another waitress to your table.”

                “No need. I’m sure miss…what’s your name, hotness?”

                “Tabby. Tabby Degarmo,” Tabby answered meekly.

                “I’m sure Tabitha here will have no trouble waiting on me and keeping me company. Ain’t that right, doll face?”

                “Very much, sir.”

                Tabby was slightly taken aback by how easily it was for Malone to ‘purchase’ her for the night but as soon as Clarence was out of ear shot she was sliding into the seat next to Malone.

                “So far so good,” Tim stated.

                “Keep in character,” Bruce chided. “Or do you want to blow the case?”

                Tabby winked at Malone, “I know something else I can blow.”

                Bruce had to stop his face from scrunching up when he whispered, “Too weird, Tim.”

                Bruce’s response was a girly giggle by Tabby and her leaning back so the chair she was in was resting on only two legs.

                “Oh, but Mr. Malone, you’re no fun.”

                “Mmm, you’re a sassy one. I’m starting to see why you haven’t landed back room yet.”

                “Meanie.”

                Malone sipped at his beer for a moment before saying, “Tell me about yourself, doll. You got a husband?”

                “No husband, but a boyfriend.”

                A dark brow was raised at that. “Oh? I know him?”

                “Maybe. I don’t know. He’s got business here and there.”

                “He a mean one?”

                “To the public? Never. To me? Always.”

                “What’s his name?”

                Tim’s phone buzzed again and Malone heard it. He raised a questioning brow and Tim knew it was Bruce’s way of calling him out on how loud the phone had been.

                “Darin,” Tim slipped his hand beneath his skirt to tap his phone and make the message go away.

                “That him callin’ you? He probably wonderin’ where his babydoll is.”

                “Oh, Darin doesn’t care like that. He’d be more concerned if I came home at all tonight. He’s having a poker party tonight and I’m not allowed home when his friends are over.”

                “Hmm, then I wonder who could be callin’ you.”

                Tim decided a half truth was probably the best answer here. “My brother.”

                “Younger or older?”

                “Younger. He’s been messaging me for almost a week now. The little twerp won’t leave me alone.”

                “Should have let him know you were workin’.”

                Tabby giggled. “Doubt it’d matter.”

                Tabby continued to keep Malone company well after her shift ended and when Malone finally left the Ganders Clarence had grunted his approval to her.

                “Not bad, tramp,” Clarence stated as Tabby clocked out for the night.

                When she caught a cab, her phone buzzed again and she pulled it out from its strap beneath her skirt. She had one text message and three unread notifications from the Loves Arrow site.

                The text message was from Bruce, letting Tim know that the night had gone well and that he had an idea concerning Tabby’s boyfriend.

                The three notifications had Tim pausing. For the past week, Damian had been messaging him daily and he had yet to respond to any of them. Part of him wanted to, but a bigger part of him told him it’d be a bad idea.

 _‘He’s just trying to prank you,’_ the little voice in his head would tell him every time he got ready to write a reply to one of Damian’s messages. Normally, the youngest bird’s pranks weren’t as long lasting as this one, which is what made Tim consider responding, but he’d never known Damian to be outright nice. Even though they were no longer trying to kill each other, a lot of the times when Damian was nice to him it was because he had ulterior motives.

Still, Tim was unable to stop himself from opening his Loves Arrow account and clicking on the blinking 3 in the corner.

Surprisingly, the first two messages that appeared were not from Damian.

_Johnathan Clark: Hey there, cutie. How’s it hanging?_

Had that guy really called him cutie? Tim scowled in disgust. He hadn’t even let Kon call him cutie. The pet name was too girly for his tastes, even if he was currently dressed in a short leather skirt and wearing fake breasts. He hit the delete button on the message and moved on to the next one.

_Latasha Greenfeild: Hi, I’m Latasha. I saw on your profile that you were interested in applied sciences. I studied applied sciences at NYU._

NYU? Not a bad school and if the girl studied applied sciences than she had to be intelligent. She was pretty too, if her profile picture was anything to go by. Blond hair, brown eyes, and freckled sun-kissed skin.

_Timothy Drake: Really? NYU? They’re a good school. I almost attended there myself._

Tim sent his reply to Latasha before he could second guess himself. As he watched the messaged appear in their shared chat box he told himself, _‘You promised Steph you’d talk to a few people and she seems like a nice girl.’_

He was half tempted to click over to Latasha’s profile and cyber stalk her for a bit before reading the third message in his mailbox. However, he knew that if he didn’t open the message now then he probably never would.

_Damian Wayne: If I have offended you in some way that has made you reluctant to respond to my messages, I wish to know how._

Tim stared down at Damian’s message as the cab he was in drove to the Bowery, where Tabby Degarmo lived. Tim had used the address of one of Jason’s abandoned safe houses for Tabby, since he couldn’t possibly put the manor’s address -or the pent house address -on her application form. He’d stashed some spare clothes in the house and he’d change before heading back to the manor for the night. Before Bruce had gotten involved, he would have slipped into Jason’s apartment and spent the night there before using a zeta tube to get back to Titan Tower. As it was, Tim knew he’d be falling asleep in his bed at the manor that night, for Bruce would only chase him down if he went back to Chicago.

                A bleep sounded from his phone and Tim stared at the device as three tiny dots appeared in his and Damian’s chat box. Apparently, the other bird was online and had realized Tim was as well. Tim was just about to log out of the site when Damian’s new message appeared.

                _Damian Wayne: It seems I have crossed a line. If you don’t wish to speak to me then you do not have to. I was only trying to be nice._

                “Only trying to be nice?” Tim whispered to himself in confusion. “Wait, so this isn’t a prank?”


	10. Damian's 'No one'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian finally tells Colin that it's Tim he's talking too and inquires into what it means when someone doesn't reply back to your messages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a much longer chapter, but it's taking a much longer time to write it than intended. So I decided to give you what I have and then work on it some more.

“What does it mean when someone has viewed a message you’ve sent them but hasn’t responded?” Damian asked one night while he sat on a beanbag chair in his and Colin’s dorm.

                Colin, who was seated on the bag next to his friend glanced away from their television for a moment to catch the worried line of Damian’s mouth. Unlike him, Damian had been sitting quietly for the last hour, sketching, while Colin bantered with the video game he was playing. Of course Colin hadn’t missed that Damian’s phone had been out and perfectly balanced on his knee while he drew.

                For the last week, Damian had been acting strange. He had been attached to his phone. Every few minutes he’d check the device and whatever he found there wasn’t pleasing for it often drew a frown from him. Colin had started to suspect that the ‘no one’ Damian was messaging was actually ‘some one’. Damian’s current question all but confirmed his suspicion. Damian was indeed talking to someone, though it didn’t sound like he was getting much of a response back.

                Colin supposed he could have lied and told Damian not to worry about this other person responding to his messages. He could have weaved a web of lies to try to ease the hurt and worry he saw etched into his best friend’s face as he once again stared down at his phone, but he knew that Damian would see right through his lie. He was the son of the greatest detective, after all. So he was left with no choice but to answer truthfully.

                “…Nothing good…”

                “That’s what I thought.”

Was that a sigh of defeat Colin was hearing? From Damian Wayne? Whoever this person was they’d really gotten under Damian’s skin good to pull such a raw emotional reaction from him.

                “Why?” Colin found himself asking in hopes that Damian would finally open up and tell him who the mysterious person was.

                Damian shrugged. “I’ve been messaging someone, but they haven’t replied back.”

                “Maybe they haven’t received the messages?”

                “The messages say they’ve been seen.”

                “Maybe you have the wrong number?”

                “It’s not a text message. It’s…” Damian paused before shoving his phone in his pocket and standing up almost violently. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

                “No offense, dude, but I’m calling bullshit. It obviously does matter if you’re this wrung out.”

                “I’m not wrung out.”

                “You so are. You’ve been glaring at your phone all week. Whoever this ‘no one’ is that you keep messaging obviously means something to you. Who are they?”

                Damian neatly laid his sketching supplies on his desk. “Like you said, they’re no one.”

                “Bro,” the red head began again. “I’ve been your best friend since we were ten. I’ve told you about every girl I’ve ever been interested in. Don’t you think you should return the favor? Who knows, maybe I’ll have some helpful advice to offer.”

                Damian scoffed at that. “I doubt it. Besides, I can’t tell you. Even If I wanted to.”

                “Why?”

                “Because.”

                “Because why, Dames?”

                “Because…” Damian hesitated.

                Colin watched as Damian toyed with the colored pencils he had laid out on his desk. He took time to line them all up neatly, adjusting them so they were in a perfect line. After a few moments went by and Damian started organizing the math worksheets sitting in an already perfect pile on the edge of his desk, Colin gave a loud, frustrated sigh. It was becoming obvious that Damian wasn’t going to continue his thought and if Damian wasn’t going to talk then Collin would.

                “Is it because they’re not a girl?” Colin had had a hunch for a while now that Damian was trying to keep a little secret from him. Of course, with Damian only having had one girlfriend in the past and him having walked in on Damian sexting multiple men on his online dating profile, Colin had put two and two together. It didn’t bug him that Damian was gay and he was sure that his roommate knew that he knew, but Damian was either pretending that night with those men on the computer didn’t happen or he thought his like for the same gender made him strange. Either or, Colin needed Damian to know that it didn’t matter to him. That, no matter who Damian liked, they were still best friends and he’d always be there when the other needed him. Too many people looked at Damian like he was some strange creature from a land far off. Their looks ate away at Damian more than he would admit and Colin prided himself in being a constant support for his friend.

                “No,” Damian murmured and the tone was so unlike him that Colin’s frown deepened. “I’m not a fool. I know you are aware of my preferences. After that unfortunate drunken night of mine, you’d have to be blind to not be. It’s more who the person is that I can’t say, than what they are.”

                “I’m not going to judge you. You can like whoever you want.”

                “You wouldn’t say that if you knew who they are.”

                “Come on, Dames, it’s not like you’re dating one of our professors or anything,” Colin paused. “Right? You aren’t dating one of them, are you? Because if you are, I totally support you but you probably should disregard everything I’ve told you about bringing dates home for Thanksgiving. Your dad would blow a gasket if you brought one of our profs home as your boyfriend.”

                “Tt, what a ridiculous idea, Wilkes,” Jade eyes rolled heavenward as their owner stepped away from his desk to retake his seat next to his roommate. “I assure you I am dating no such person. For your information, I am not dating anyone. I was merely attempting to make contact with someone I’ve recently discovered I find appealing.”

                “And this person would be?”

                “Tt.”

                “Fine, how about this? We play twenty questions and see if I can guess who they are.”

                “Tt,” another clicking of his tongue from Damian. Colin knew that it’d been meant as a scoff but he chose to take it as an agreement anyway.

                “Do they go to our school?”

Damian was silent and Colin threw a stress ball at him. “Come on. Just answer the questions.”

Damian rolled his eyes again. “I don’t see why this matters so much to you.”

“Because.”

“Because why?” Damian Smirked and Colin could tell that the words were meant to mock him for asking the same thing earlier.

“Because I’m your best friend. Because this person has gotten under your skin by not returning your messages, and I’m your best friend, and I want to help you, and I think that I have a better chance of being able to if I know the person’s identity, and did I mention because I’m your best friend?”

“Yes, three times now,” Damian stated, to which Colin grinned.

“Good, so you get the concept I’m your best friend. Now are you going to answer my question or am I going to have to spend all night trying to hack your phone?”

It would take more than a night for Colin to successfully hack into Damian’s phone. The boy was a Robin. He was trained by both Batman and Nightwing. His phone had more security than NASA. Despite that, he decided that it wouldn’t hurt to humor his friend. In fact, it might help him, so he said, “I’ll answer your questions.”

“Glad to see you’re cooperating,” Colin’s grin was so wide that the Cheshire cat would be jealous if he could see it. “Let’s begin again. Do they go to our school?”

“Not currently,” Damian answered and then cursed himself for having not just said no. By saying that they didn’t currently attend their university he was admitting that they either had once or were going to, which basically wiped out an entire age range of possible people.

“Okay. _Have_ they gone to our school?”

“…Yes.”

“So they’re older than us?”

“…Yes.”

“By how many years?”

“You can only ask yes or no questions,” Damian informed.

“That wasn’t a rule.”

                “It is now,” the young Wayne smirked when his friend gave a fake exasperated sigh.

                “Fine. Only yes or no questions,” Collin relented. “Have I met this person?”

                “Yes.”

                “Recently?”

                “No.”

                “So, I’ve known them for a while?”

                “Yes.”

                Colin paused for a moment to consider his next question. So far he’d only ruled out people younger than him and Damian and everyone he didn’t know. He needed a better question.

                “Are they part of the superhero community?” the red head settled on asking.

                “Yes,” Damian admitted.

                “Have I teamed up with them before?”

                “Yes.”

                “Several times?”

                Damian shifted on his bean bag and gave a little shrug. “I wouldn’t say several, but enough to mater.”

                Colin nodded his understanding. “Have _you_ teamed up with them?”

                “Yes.”

                “Several times?”

                “Yes.”

                “So they work with the Bats?”

                “Frequently.”

                “But not just with the Bats?”

                “No. They have other allies.”

                Again, Colin paused. This time he knew what he wanted to ask but he hoped it wouldn’t cause Damian to shut down. For the closer he got to learning the person’s identity the more likely Damian was to call quits on their little game.

                “Do they live in Gotham?”

                Now it was Damian’s turn to hesitate. Colin didn’t know how hard his question was to answer. Yes, Tim kept a place in Gotham, but he hadn’t really been living there. He hadn’t lived in Gotham for a while. He was more of a Chicago resident at this point. Still, he was staying in Gotham now and he’d been travelling between Gotham and Chicago for cases. Did case work travel count as residence? Damian thought not.

                “I think…no,” Damian settled on answering.

                Colin’s freckled face screwed up in thought over Damian’s answer. The boy had been unsure when he spoke. Like he didn’t know how to answer the question.

                “Have they ever lived in Gotham?” Colin hoped that rephrasing the question would get him a clearer answer.

                “Yes, they have.”

                “But they don’t currently?”

                “…I’m not sure…”

                “Do they live in more than one place?” Colin inquired.

                “Yes.”

                “Is Bludhaven one of them?”

                “Ew, no,” Damian’s face scrunched up. “Get the thought me and Grayson out of your head.”

                “Just covering my bases, Dames,” Colin raised his hands in defense. “How about Chicago? Do they live there?”

                Damian swallowed. If he answered that question honestly Wilkes would be throwing out a name with his next question and what would Colin think once he learned that Damian had developed an attraction towards someone who was supposed to be his brother?

                “Damian?” Colin prompted when Damian didn’t respond.

                “I…”Damian cleared his throat. Colin was his best friend. That’s what he kept telling Damian, right? So he wouldn’t judge him…right? “I…yes. He lives in Chicago and Gotham.”

                “Oh,” Colin nodded as if Damian had just told him everything and, in a way, Damian had. “I see. So, Tim hasn’t been answering your messages?”

                The raven haired male’s shoulders slumped. “No.”

                “That doesn’t make any sense,” lines of confusion formed between Colin’s brows. “Why wouldn’t he answer you? You have been nice, right? Haven’t threatened to kill him?”

                “Wilkes,” the red-head’s name was a growl coming from Damian, “I ceased trying to kill him years ago. Why do you naturally assume that it is because I haven’t been nice that he hasn’t replied?”

                Colin’s shoulders rose and fell. “You just aren’t the nicest person to him. I know you stopped trying to kill him, Dames. I was joking when I asked if you had, but you do still insult him a lot.”

                “I do not.”

                “Really? Because the last time I saw him and you in the same room you called him a waste of space and said that if it weren’t for his intellect he would have no place on the bat team.”

                Silence fell upon the two boys. Outside the window, Damian could hear an autumn breeze and outside their door there was a loud ruckus coming from their hallmates. He wished to counter Colin’s words -to tell him that he was wrong -but he couldn’t. Even if the last time Damian had seen Tim they’d had a nice, argument free night, the time before that had been filled with petty jabs and insults. It was true, he wasn’t known for his kindness when it came to Timothy Drake, but surly that wouldn’t keep Tim from responding to him. After all, the duo had worked through the majority of their problems. Damian no longer desired Tim’s demise and Tim seemed okay with the younger being Robin. The insults were just friendly fire. A way to pass time on patrols and to keep the other on their toes. They weren’t actually meant to hurt and Tim knew that…didn’t he?

                Damian shook the unpleasant thoughts away. “Tt, Drake knows my taunts are merely for sport.”

                “Are you sure?” Colin questioned as Damian pulled his phone out of the pocket of his sweat pants.

                Damian didn’t respond. Not initially. He was too busy staring down at the blank screen of his phone. He turned the device over in his hands a couple times, fidgeting with its volume and ringer settings, before slowly rising from his bean bag. A fake yawn was given and Colin was convinced it was the only reply he was going to receive until Damian went to climb into his bed and softly said, “No, but I hope he knows.”

                “If you’re not sure, then maybe you should tell him,” Colin watched as his roommate slipped beneath his comforter and rested his head against his pillow.

                “Good night, Colin,” was Damian’s remark and Colin knew it was a dismissal. His time of talking to Damian about Tim had ran out and the boy was shutting down.

                Standing up and stretching, Colin walked over to their dorm light switch and flicked it down. The lights in the room went out, leaving it dark except for the slight glow that came in from the lamp outside their window. Climbing into his own bed, Colin stated, “Good night, Damian,” before turning so his back was to the other boy. Not that it mattered because Damian was staring up at the ceiling, his phone clutched tightly in his hands.

                Damian tried to sleep, but Colin’s words kept running through his mind and he became incessantly worried that the other boy was right. Of course, if Drake didn’t know his insults were meant in fun then he wouldn’t respond to Damian’s messages.

                The young Wayne unlocked his phone and logged into his profile on Love’s Arrow and typed one more message to Tim:

_If I have offended you in some way that has made you reluctant to respond to my messages, I wish to know how._


	11. Communicate is a Two-Way Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim finally messages Damian back, but their conversation doesn't go quite as well as Damian hoped.

Sleep alluded Damian as he lay awake, staring at the steady green light of his and Colin’s dorm room smoke detector. A soft, easy snore could be heard coming from the redhead’s bed and Damian envied that Colin’s brain was allowing him to sleep through the night. It was on nights like these, where his thoughts kept him from achieving the blissful state of slumber, that he wished he’d never agreed to his father’s request of refraining from vigilante work while at school. A night of being Robin always helped ease him into rest. He’d always returned from patrol pumped with adrenaline and would soon crash afterwards as exhaustion from the night caught up with him. Patrol would often grant him dreamless sleep and, if it didn’t, there were punching bags in the manor’s gym that he liked to utilize.

As it was, however, he was not at home and the school gym had closed hours ago. He wondered if his family was out on patrol like he wished to be. Dick and Jason were sure to be suited up. They’d taken to patrolling together quite a lot since they’d initially become a couple. Even before that, they’d partnered up for the Bat family rounds at least once a week.

Batman was most likely patrolling too. Either that or helping Tim with his current case while Alfred sat in the cave, listening to the coms. Damian secretly hoped Batman was with Tim that night. Red Robin would most likely be absent from patrol as Tim continued with his undercover mission and Damian had read up on Tim’s current case file. He’d pulled everything he could on Tim’s case from the Bats’ shared database. He’d gotten all the past records regarding Tim’s suspect, his allies, and even some of Tim’s current notes. Of course, the current information was still a little out of date, for it appeared that Tim hadn’t uploaded any new information in almost a month. Damian hoped his father would scold Drake on that matter. If the other boy insisted on going through phases of neglecting his health to further his cases the least he could do was make sure his family had accurate, and up to date, reports of his outings.

Even with what little information Damian had been able to get, he could tell that Tim’s current case was not to be taken lightly. The more he read over the reports, the more he wished he was in Gotham. He wanted to do more than research the criminal’s hideouts and send information to Dick and Jason. Instead of receiving texts that told him that the latest address he’d given them wasn’t the hideout, he wanted to be searching those addresses with them. Really, he wanted to do anything to help end Tim’s case.

Drake was in over his head. That much, Damian knew. And he didn’t even want to think about what the other boy must be doing to work his way into the prostitution ring whose leader he was after. Sex trafficking and drug dealers might be nothing new for any of the bats, but something about Tim’s case left Damian feeling uneasy. He didn’t know why, but the idea of Tim going undercover for this case didn’t sit right with him and he was sure it wasn’t just because he’d come to terms with the fact that he felt drawn to the other boy. Sure, Tim’s current health could play a part in Damian’s unease, but really it came down to Damian having a bad feeling. His gut told him that something wasn’t right and he hoped that Tim was being safe and that his father would make sure he was.

Damian swiped his phone from where it sat on a small table by his bed. He’d nearly groaned when he saw that it was already the early hours of morning. At least he knew that Batman should be getting off patrol soon, if he’d gone out. Perhaps his father would indulge him and help get his mind off Tim with a story from his adventures that night. Then again, Bruce had never been one to incessantly text. He usually preferred to call Damian when they spoke and Damian really didn’t want to wander into the halls, to keep from waking Colin, just to call his father. Such a call could wait until morning, anyway.

However, with his mind still active and wishing for an excuse to either think more about Tim or to forget about him completely for the night, Damian knew he needed to find some way to occupy his thoughts for a bit. He was just about to select a game to play on his phone when a notification popped up on his screen. A little bleep sounded as the words ‘Timothy Drake is online’ appeared and he smiled slightly, congratulating himself for having subscribed to Tim’s Loves Arrow profile so he’d be alerted when the other boy was online.

Immediately, he went to the dating website and opened the chat box he’d been using to message Drake. The last message he read showed that Tim hadn’t read it yet, and he waited, watching the words and reading over them.

_Damian Wayne: If I have offended you in some way that has made you reluctant to respond to my messages, I wish to know how._

A few minutes passed by without anything happening and Damian wondered if Tim had decided that reading and not responding to his messages hadn’t been enough. Maybe the other boy had decided to ignore Damian’s messages all together now. Maybe his last message would never get read. Just as he thought that, however, the tiny word ‘seen’ appeared under his last message. He held his breath, counting the seconds and hoping that Tim would reply.

When no reply came after nearly five minutes, the young Wayne growled. He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a calming breath, and almost flinched as Colin’s words from earlier that night came back to haunt him.

_‘The last time I saw him and you in the same room, you called him a waste of space and said that if it weren’t for his intellect he would have no place on the bat team.’_

Colin’s words were the reason he’d been kept up that night. He was unable to stop thinking about Tim and how badly he’d treated him in the past and how badly he still treated him at times. Before that night, he had been sure that Tim knew that the insults had gone from meant to inflict harm to playful banter, but now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe Tim didn’t know that Damian didn’t hate his presence. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t responded to any of Damian’s messages. Maybe he thought that Damian was just going to tease him online now. Maybe Damian should let him know that his messages were sent out of kindness and not with an ill intent.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Damian typed another message to Tim, even though he knew that the other boy probably wouldn’t respond.

_Damian Wayne: It seems I have crossed a line. If you don’t wish to speak to me then you do not have to.  I was only trying to be nice._

No reply came at first, just like Damian had predicted, but then three tiny dots appeared in his and Tim’s chat box and he felt his heart stutter. Was Tim actually writing back?

_Timothy Drake: Nice? Is this some kind of joke?_

The corners of Damian’s mouth twisted when he read Tim’s message. It appeared that he and Tim hadn’t been on as friendly terms as he thought and knowing that made his heart drop.

_Damian Wayne: I assure you, I am not joking. I was merely attempting to correspond with you via this site, but it appears that my intentions have been misunderstood. Have you been ignoring my messages because you thought they were meant as a joke or do you truly have no desire to speak with me? For, if you do not want to talk, I will reiterate my earlier point that you are in no way obligated to do so._

_Timothy Drake:…you’re being serious…_

_Damian Wayne: Yes._

_Timothy Drake: You’re not going to change your mind and send me a computer virus over this just to laugh over the fact that you’ve destroyed my computer, are you?_

_Damian Wayne: Your lack of trust in me is not satisfactory, but I suppose it’s understandable. I assure you, I have no malicious intent._

_Timothy Drake: …Well, okay then…_

Damian waited as the three dots came back, telling him that Tim was typing again. He waited, and waited, and waited for what felt like forever, but was only moments. When the dots disappeared and no new message appeared, Damian knew that Tim had rethought whatever it was he was initially going to say and had deleted it instead of pressing send.

_Damian Wayne: Okay then? Is that all you have to say, Drake?_

_Timothy Drake: There’s nothing else to say. I guess…well, I should apologize for ignoring your messages. I thought you were pulling some kind of prank on me._

_Damian Wayne: I prefer to pull pranks in person. The results are much more satisfying if I am there to see my victim’s reactions._

_Timothy Drake: *Scoff* Whatever you say._

_Damian Wayne: It’s true. Have you ever pulled a prank on someone and then not have been there when they triggered it?_

_Timothy Drake: I’m not one for pranks._

_Damian Wayne: Not even with the Titans?_

Damian found it hard to believe that Tim had never pulled a prank on his friends. With as much time as he spent with the Titans and how close he was to them, Damian had naturally assumed that the older boy had taken part in their shenanigans. He stared at the three blinking dots on his phone as he realized that he’d heard Dick and Jason tell stories about the pranks they played on, and with, their respective best friends, but he had never once heard Tim talk about a prank he and the clone had pulled.

_Timothy Drake: Never the prankster, always the pranked._

_Damian Wayne: You’ve never been a part of a prank that you weren’t the target of?_

_Timothy Drake: Is that surprising._

_Damian Wayne: With your intellect, yes. You are brilliant enough that you could outsmart every single one of your friends. A prank designed by you would be epic._

_Timothy Drake: …I’m not one for pranks…_

_Damian Wayne: Yes, you’ve said that._

When Tim didn’t reply to his message, Damian worried for a second that the other boy was going to log off and return to ignoring him. So, instead of waiting for Tim to decide whether or not he was going to reply, he sent another reply of his own since he sensed the topic at hand was making Tim uncomfortable.

_Damian Wayne: Forget that, though. Father told me you were back in Gotham. Did you accompany him on patrol tonight?_

_Timothy Drake: Dick and Jason ran patrol tonight. I was undercover and B came with me._

_Damian Wayne: I was told of your recent undercover work. Father has me considering your suspects._

_Timothy Drake: Yeah, B mentioned you and the others were helping._

_Damian Wayne: Was father undercover with you or keeping an eye out for trouble?_

_Timothy Drake: Undercover. Malone is helping Tabby work her way into the backrooms._

Backrooms…Damian’s mouth twisted into a sneer of disgust. The backrooms of a supposed prostitution ring were nowhere for someone of Tim’s delicate figure to be spending time. Surly there was another way for him to catch the criminal. A way that didn’t involve him whoring himself to the wrong kinds of men.

_Damian Wayne: Backrooms? And father agreed to this plan?_

_Timothy Drake: You know how cases work. Sometimes you have to get dirty to catch the crook._

_Damian Wayne: Yes. Dirty like wading through sewers full of bio-waste to catch Croc, or going undercover in a gang to catch Two Face, or playing the role of a socialite to seduce a suspect into your room in order to apprehend them…working as a prostitute is different. Surly this crosses one of father’s lines._

_Timothy Drake: You sound just like B when I first told him my plan. He wasn’t too happy about it._

_Damian Wayne: I cannot fathom what you could have possibly said to change his mind on the matter._

_Timothy Drake: I told him the truth. That I’m planning on catching my guy before I end up as a prostitute. But, to do that, Tabby has to be considered for working in the…why am I even telling you this? You don’t need to know this. This is my case, not yours. I can handle it how I want._

_Damian Wayne: You’re handling it wrong._

_Timothy Drake: That’s a matter of opinion. You aren’t the one who’s spent months working on this case. You don’t have all the information._

_Damian Wayne: That’s only because you haven’t uploaded any of your recent findings to the shared database._

_Timothy Drake: I don’t have to. Unlike you, I’m no longer living in Bruce’s shadow. I’m my own person and can do whatever the hell I want. That includes handling cases the way I see fit._

_Damian Wayne: You’re acting childish._

_Timothy Drake: You’re pissing me off._

_Damian Wayne: But you don’t deny that you’re behaving like a child._

_Timothy Drake: I knew I shouldn’t have messaged you back._

Damian felt his heart scream at the thought of Tim going back to ignoring his messages. His eyes grew wide and he typed back a quick reply, hoping to fix the argument he’d unintentionally started.

_Damian Wayne: Wait! I apologize. I really was messaging you to be nice. I will attempt to refrain from judging your decisions in regards of your case. In fact, let us not speak of the case anymore._

_Timothy Drake: Fine._

_Damian Wayne: Fine?_

_Timothy Drake: Yeah, fine. I have to go anyway, I’m at Tabby’s place, and I don’t really have the motivation to argue any more with you tonight._

_Damian Wayne: I see. I did not mean to argue._

_Timothy Drake: What other form of communication do you and I ever use?_

Damian flinched at that. He was about to type back a reply when his phone bleeped with another message from Tim.

_Timothy Drake: Good night._

Again, Damian found himself pausing to simply stare at Tim’s message. He desired to push for more communication. He wished to keep talking to the other boy. Yet, he knew he had irritated the older bird, plus he was sure that Tim had to be exhausted if he had been undercover all night.

As much as he hated to do it -and he really, really hated to -Damian knew he needed to allow Tim to end their conversation. He only hopped that Tim wouldn’t go back to ignoring him once he did.

_Damian Wayne: Goodnight._

No reply came from Tim and, instead, the green dot signaling that Tim was online disappeared. Damian sighed. He held his phone to his chest, staring back up at the green light of his and Colin’s smoke detector. The conversation he’d had with Tim hadn’t been as pleasant as he’d been hoping it would be. He didn’t believe in wishing stars, and he wasn’t one for prayer, but that night he would have wished upon every star in the sky and prayed to every god that Tim would keep messaging him back.


	12. Fetching Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim accidentally spends the night at Jason's safe house and is woken up in the morning by Jason, who's been tasked to bring him back to the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of rushed to finish this one so I apologize if there are more mistakes in it than usual. I'm also sorry it's so short. I was going to combine this one with the next one but I decided it was best to split it, so I went a head and posted this one. I hope you like it.

Tim never made it back to the manor after working Tabby’s shift at the hotel. After paying his cab driver, he’d intended to use Jason’s safe house to change into something more comfortable before heading back to the manor. However, as soon as he’d slipped out of Tabby’s clothes his exhaustion had set in.

Tim was tired. So tired. And he really shouldn’t be because he’d slept more the night before than he had in a while, and he’d taken all of his medication that day, and had even eaten for Alfred and Bruce. Sure, he’d managed to be gone when Alfred had served lunch, and maybe he’d told a white lie that he’d eaten late while being out and about in the city when the old butler had requested his presence at dinner, but he’d eaten breakfast. That counted for something, right? Plus, he had snatched a protein bar from the kitchen before leaving for Tabby’s shift. It’s not like he was starving. He didn’t even feel hungry. He just felt tired. Bone tired. The weak state his limbs seemed to sink into the moment he’d passed beneath Jason’s door had nothing to do with the lack of nutrients his body was receiving and had everything to do with how exhausting the night had been. Right?

The third robin leaned against the rickety bookcase near Jason’s front door. There were a few paperbacks on it that had been dog eared and a first-aid kit but, otherwise, the case’s five shelves were bare. Much like the rest of the apartment.

There was a reason Tim chose this particular address for Tabby. It was one of Jason’s lesser used homes -in fact, it was practically abandoned -and Tabby was supposed to have a poor home life. Having an abusive, possessive boyfriend who wanted to pimp her out to pay for the bills and his drug addiction had left Tabby way below poverty line. This place was supposed to be a stroke of luck for her to have. A stroke of luck, but not a freaking miracle from heaven, like any normal place would be to a girl like her.

Tim kicked off Tabby’s high heels as he allowed his eyes to slip shut. He wasn’t resting. He was merely allowing his mind to strip itself of Tabby’s identity for the night. He’d spent too much time being Tabby recently and not enough time being Tim. Moments like this, when he could just be still for a moment and let go of his disguise were cherished.

When he once again opened his eyes, he gently removed himself from the bookcase’s side. Slowly, he began to remove the rest of Tabby’s clothes and sighed in relief when he was able to get rid of the fake cleavage and undo the patchwork holding his manhood tight enough to his body that it hadn’t been able to be seen beneath Tabby’s skirt. He hated playing a girl. It was one thing to pretend to be one during his time as Robin but he’d have thought he’d grown out of such a disguise by adulthood. Yet, it seemed it was still something he was good at. He’d always been the best, out of all the Robins, at playing a girl. Bruce seemed to think it was because of his lean figure. Dick said it was because his voice had never deepened as much as his own and Jason’s had after puberty. Jason thought it was because he was a ‘pretty boy’ and Damian…Tim shook his head at that thought. Damian always insulted him when he dressed like the other gender. He’d always tsked and said something along the lines of, “You make a better girl than a boy, Drake. Honestly, one would think it’s Timothy Drake that’s the disguise.”

Tim rolled his eyes at the memory of Damian’s words as he slipped on a pair of boxers he kept in a bag at the apartment. It seemed to him that he and Damian were almost incapable of carrying on a normal conversation. Which was a pity, really, because he enjoyed the moments they did speak without insult. If only all their conversations could be as argument free as the one they’d had the last time they’d seen each other face to face. Unfortunately, most of them tended to go south quickly. Just like their conversation on the Love’s Arrows site had earlier that night.

Initially, Tim had been reluctant to speak with Damian, but when the younger man asked if he had done something to prevent Tim from replying to him Tim had felt the urge to comfort him. Dick would have said it was his brotherly instincts kicking in but Tim knew that wasn’t it. Though Damian was supposed to be his brother, by law, he’d never seen the kid as such. The kind of rivalry they had was far more vicious and lethal than any normal sibling rivalry. Which was why it didn’t surprise him how horribly their conversation had gone. If Damian had just stuck to small talk and hadn’t brought up Tim’s case then maybe they could have had a more civilized chat, but that’s not what happened. Instead, the little demon spawn had to go and start critiquing Tim’s work.

As if Damian’s behavior concerning Tim’s case hadn’t been enough to irritate Tim, now Tim also had to hack into the Love’s Arrow website and erase all evidence of their conversation. Bruce had a lot of rules and some of them Tim thought to be pointless, but the one about not speaking of their family’s night life on any kind of website was not one of them. It was too risky to speak of such things in such an environment and every Robin was taught as much, yet Damian had been the one to bring up the topic of patrol and Tim’s case…and Tim would have to delete the evidence so it never fell into the wrong hands. He needed to get back to the manor, back to his laptop, ad delete the conversation as soon as possible

Tim’s legs wobbled slightly as he bent to grab a pair of pants out his clothing bag. With a yawn, he glanced between the jeans and the mattress that lay in the middle of the floor. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to wait a little bit longer to get rid of his and Damian’s conversation. Just a few minutes of rest wouldn’t do any harm. Besides, his entire body felt oddly weak. His limbs were turning to jelly and his brains had become mush. If he didn’t get some sleep he’d end up running his bike into a pole on his way back to the manor.

With a sigh, Tim flopped down on the dusty mattress that lay on the floor of Jason’s apartment. It was yellowed and smelt like mildew. The pillow and blanket on it had been a set that Tim had swiped from Titan Tower when he’d first started having to stay overnight in Gotham for his case. They were simple. A pillow in a plane white, pillowcase and a grey wool blanket. It wasn’t’ the soft comforter waiting for him back on his bed at the manor, but it was fine by Tim’s standards.

“Just a couple minutes of rest,” Tim tried to tell himself. He yawned in disagreement of his own words before adding, “Then I’ll head back to the manor.”

He never made it back to the manor that night, though, for he fell asleep soon after he’d thought about returning and didn’t wake up until there was sunlight streaming in through the window and a jab in his side. He grumbled to himself and tried to bat away the object that was repeatedly poking him. Keeping his eyes closed, he let out a displeased grunt when the object continued its torture. Whatever was jabbing him had a dull tip, for its strikes didn’t hurt but were annoying. He swatted at the object again before grumbling and tightening his already shut eyes.

“Wake up, Replacement,” a voice deeper than Tim’s own, and one that was very familiar, demanded as the dull object once again jabbed Tim’s side.

Tim blinked. His blue eyes tried to focus on the world around him. The first thing he noticed was the yellowed water spot on the ceiling, then he noticed the show.

A black, steel toed boot had been kicking him in the side and as his eyes traveled up the leg attached to it, Tim found himself looking up at a smirking Jason Todd. A cigarette with a glowing orange end dangled from Jason’s lips and his blue-green eyes were looking down at Tim in amusement. Instead of his Red Hood gear, the older robin was dressed in civilian clothes. The pair of ripped jeans and the red shirt he wore were nothing special, but Tim recognized the leather jacket spread across his shoulders as the nearly $500 one that Dick had asked Tim’s opinion on before purchasing and gifting it to Jason.

“Long night?” one of Jason’s eyebrows lifted, “or do you always look like shit in the morning?”

“Fuck off,” Tim tossed his pillow at Jason half-heartedly and with a small smile on his lips.

“I’d love too, but wonder boy sent me to fetch you and it’ll ruin my plans for today if I piss him off by not bringing you back to the manor.”

“The manor?” Tim blinked as it fully donned on him that he was still in Jason’s safe house and not at the manor. “Shoot! I promised B I’d go back there last night.”

“That didn’t exactly work out, now did it? He called Dick this morning and bitched about how irresponsible you’re being. Apparently, you’re in for quite the lecture when you get back,” Jason’s smirk only grew the more he talked. “Seriously, Baby bird, what did you think would happen? You’re back under daddy’s wing now. He’s not going to let you go off the grid.”

“I wasn’t trying to go off the grid,” a painful spike shot through Tim’s brain as he sat up. He groaned and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. His head was throbbing, he could feel his heartbeat inside his skull, and when he tried to pull his hands away from his eyes, the light streaming in through the window made him wince.

Jason’s brow furrowed in concern and reached out to lace the fingers of one hand through Tim’s dark locks. “You don’t look so good, Replacement.”

“I’m fine,” Tim ground out the response that had become instinctual whenever someone asked about his wellbeing. “I guess I’m just still a little tired.”

“Hm,” Jason hummed his disagreement. “You got any meds here?”

Tim shook his head. “I normally keep some in my utility belt but I ran out last week. Haven’t refilled it yet. I’ll put more in when I get back to the manor.”

“Fuck, Timmy, you aren’t exactly helping your case against B here.”

“I know he thinks I’m being irresponsible and that I’m neglecting my health, but I’m not. You know I forget sometimes.”

“I know. My theory is that, that big brain of yours is so full of random facts and knowledge that it can’t remember that you’re human and have basic needs that have to be met.”

“There’s a lot of ‘that’ in that sentence,” Tim remarked.

“Leave me alone. I was up all night chasing a gun dealer across the city, then I came home to Dick -who is like the fucking energizer bunny -and then I get sent here to find you after having only had an hour of sleep. Besides, you don’t get to judge. You didn’t check in with the Bat before crashing on the dirty mattress of one of my abandoned safe houses, without your medication.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Tim grumbled as he began the tedious chore of getting dressed. Really, pulling his jeans and shirt should not take as much energy as it was. His limbs felt like someone had sewn weights into them while he was a sleep. He could barely lift them and, as a result, his movements became slow and jerky.

Jason’s eyes remained locked on Tim while the younger man got himself dressed. He had moved away from the bed and had come to hover over Tim’s shoulder. Their close proximity was annoying the younger bird, but Tim wasn’t blind to how he was swaying on his own legs and knew that Jason’s hovering was to make catching him if he fell easier.

“You have a bike here?” Jason spoke up again when Tim was seated back on the mattress and was putting his shoes on.

“Yeah. Hidden in the garage below us,” Tim stated.

“You’re leaving it here. You’re going to ride back with me.”

“I’m perfectly capable of driving myself back to the manor.”

Jason shook his head and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re having balance issues, you can barely stand, you have a migraine, you don’t have your meds, and I doubt you’ve eaten anything in a while. You’re in no condition to drive.”

Tim opened his mouth to protest but shut it promptly when Jason fixed him with a glare that could almost rival Bruce’s. With a grumble of defeat, the younger bird relented and Jason reached out a hand to help him stand up. Before he even had the chance to grab the backpack he had stashed Tabby’s clothes in the night before, Jason was snatching it off the floor and swinging it over his own shoulder.

“Come on, baby bird. Let’s get you back home,” Jason placed a protective hand on Tim’s upper shoulder and guided him out of the safe house.


	13. Gathering Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian calls Dick to check on how things are going back in Gotham while he has some down time and Colin helps him figure out that he needs to take a new approach when speaking to Tim.

“None of the addresses have checked out? Are you sure you did not mix them up?” Damian gritted his teeth as he leaned back in the driver’s seat of his car. He was parked in front of a coffee shop and Colin had run inside to grab them a couple drinks while Damian called Dick to check in on how the search for Tim’s suspect’s house was going.

“I didn’t mix them up, Little D,” Dick sighed on the other end of Damian’s phone. “Maybe we’re wasting our time with this approach.”

“Meaning?”  

“Jason thinks someone might be housing him. It’d be hard for a guy like Matthew Long to go unnoticed in Gotham, especially when he’s supposed to be dead. He still has a lot of enemies here from before his supposed murder.”

“Exactly. According to father’s records, he had more enemies than friends. In fact, his list of allies is so sort that it should be nonexistent.”

“Then why aren’t we checking the people on that list? If he has friends, then we should have started with them.”

“There are three people he worked closely with. Two are dead…very dead…their bodies have been exhumed twice by the GCPD for investigations,” Damian remarked.

“And the other one?”

“Clarence Westwood. Former bodyguard to Long. Current manager at the Hotel Ganders.”

“Tim should be keeping an eye on him then, but it couldn’t hurt to check out his residence. You got an address for him, baby bat?”

“He doesn’t own a personal residence,” Damian stated as Colin exited the coffee shop with two large white cups. “He lives at the hotel.”

“So what you’re saying is that Long could be there too.”

“I didn’t say that, but if someone is housing him then it must be Westwood and perhaps he figured that if he lived where he worked he could avoid notice. Use Westwood as his face while he pulled the strings in the back.”

“Can you hack the system and get a room number for Clarence Westwood? Jason and I could check the place out tonight.”

“I have my doubts about that being a good idea. If you are caught, your presence could spook Westwood and Long enough that they could move their business. If that happens…”

“…It could become impossible to find them and Tim would be pissed because we’d blown the case he’s been working on for months.”

“Precisely,” Damian glanced over as Colin entered the car and took the coffee his friend offered to him.

Dick let out a jagged sigh. “I’m really starting to hate this case. I almost wish B had forcibly pulled Tim from it instead of agreeing to help with it.”

“Me too,” Damian admitted.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if he was after Westwood, but the fact that he’s going for the head guy…Tim’s not simply trying to stop a pimp. He’s trying to take down a whole local trafficking system.”

“I believe Drake has gotten himself in over his head this time,” Damian stated, “and I question how safe he is being.”

“You mean going undercover as a waitress with the goal of being considered for the trafficking ring?”

“Yes,” the youngest robin nodded even though he knew his oldest brother couldn’t see the gesture.

“I don’t like it either, but B’s now accompanying him so at least he has a bit of a safety net,” Dick stopped talking as a loud voice came from behind him.

Damian heard someone, who sounded like Tim, shout, “I’m not a child anymore! You can’t tell me how to live my life!”

“I can when you’re showing that you clearly aren’t capable of taking care of yourself!” another voice, this one sounding very much like Bruce, shouted back.

“What’s going on there?” Damian questioned and his back straightened at the sound of a distressed Tim. Tim was yelling again, but his words were rushed and rough in a way that was making it hard for Damian to tell what was being said.

“Tim didn’t report back to the manor last night like he was supposed to. He stayed the night at one of Jason’s safe houses. The one he’s using as his cover’s residence,” Dick informed.

“And father is claiming that makes him unable to care for himself?” Damian frowned.

“No, he’s claiming that it makes him irresponsible. He didn’t have his meds with him, Dami, and he’s not doing too well health wise. Has Bruce told you anything about that?”

“Not really. I know he believes that Drake should be taking better care of himself.”

“He’s not eating, he’s hardly sleeping, and Bruce thinks that he hasn’t been taking his medication either.”

The corners of Damian’s mouth twisted into a scowl. “Drake is aware that he requires his medication to survive. I highly doubt he would not take it.”

“You know how he gets when he works, though, and he hasn’t been the same since his break up with Kon. He’s literally thrown himself into the mission, Damian.”

Damian’s frown only deepened as he began to realize just how dire the situation with Tim had become. If he wasn’t eating, sleeping, or taking his meds then perhaps he did need to be told how to live his life. Especially if he was neglecting his basic needs because of his break up with the clone. Perhaps Drake hadn’t taken the break up as well as he’d told everyone he had. Perhaps he was taking it far harder then he should be and it was making him depressed. With that thought in mind, Damian itched to be back in Gotham.

“Keep him alive for three more weeks and then I will be home for Thanksgiving,” Damian’s grip on his phone had tightened considerably and he wasn’t unaware of the way Colin was watching him while pretending to examine the way the barista had written his name on his coffee cup. “Once I am home, we will make quick work of this case.”

Dick scoffed. “You know it’s phrases like that, that make Jason and Tim want to strangle you.”

“I’m not being conceited. I’m being observant. Our cases tend to be finished quicker when all of us are working on them. Though our personalities conflict our strengths complement each other.”

“Not going to argue with you there. It’ll be good to have you back home for a week. I miss you.”

Damian rolled his eyes but returned the sentiment, “I have found myself wishing I wasn’t lacking your company a few times as well.”

Dick’s deep, yet boyish chuckle caused Damian to smirk but the smirk quickly faded when he heard Jason chime into whatever conversation was taking place between Bruce and Tim in the background.

“I have to go, little D. Jay’s in B’s face and I don’t want to spend our anniversary helping Alfred stitch them up,” Dick stated.

“Good bye then, Grayson,” Damian barely got his remark said before Dick was ending their call.

“So, how are things at home?” Colin inquired, taking note of how his friend sagged in the driver seat.

Taking a drink from his coffee, Damian didn’t answer Colin for a moment. He placed his drink in the cup holder, turned on his car, and began to leave the parking lot of the coffee shop before speaking up. “Three weeks is too long.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Drake,” Damian answered shortly.  

“He still not answering your messages?”

“We spoke last night, but apparently he has no concern for his health and Grayson says that it is becoming troublesome.”

“He’s always been that way. Remember that time we went to your house to work on a science project and found him passed out on the floor of the kitchen? He probably just needs to get back on track and then he’ll be fine again.”

“I sincerely hope so.”

The worry that laced Damian’s voice was as clear to Colin as the clouds in the sky above them. “Look on the bright side. Just three more weeks and then you can go back home and join in on all family drama.”

At that, Damian smirked. “True. It is starting to irritate me that there is very little I can do to help them while here. I am little more than a glorified Google at the moment. My task is a simple one. I research and report. I don’t perform investigations, or go undercover, or patrol…I have become, simply, a messenger.”

“I’m sure when you get back your dad will have some kind of action for you to leap into.”

“Most likely. Is it wrong of me to hope that I’ll be able to work closely with Drake?”

“You really have it bad for him. Don’t you?”

A slight red colored Damian’s cheeks as he pretended to find something in his car’s rear view mirror to be fascinating. Colin bit back a laugh at his companion’s reaction and when Damian moved to switch on the radio, he intercepted the other male by placing his hand over the Aux port so that Damian’s phone could not be connected to the stereo system. Damian was deflecting and Colin wasn’t going to let him. Not this time. Not with such an important topic.

“You’ve liked him for a while now,” Colin stated in a matter of fact manner.

“I first noticed my infatuation for him a year ago,” the raven-haired male admitted quietly, as if the admission pained him. “At a gala. He was dating the clone then.”

“Yeah?”

Damian switched driving lanes as he readied to turn back into their university. “Yes. It was not a pleasant realization.”

“Haha!” Colin barked. “Not a pleasant realization? Been there before. Sometimes you catch the feels and you’re like, ‘Oh, they’re cute,’ other times you’re like, ‘Shit, not this again.’ Been there, dude.”

“The feels?”

“Yeah, you know. The feelings. A crush.”

“I wish this was simple a crush, but I fear it to be more,” Damian grimaced. “I did research on the difference between crushes and such things are temporary. They are fleeting, but it has been a year and I am still as infatuated -if not more -as I was the moment I realized I had…caught the feels.”

“Sometimes that’s how it goes,” Colin stared down at his coffee cup for a moment before tilting his head to the side and saying, “You do know that what you’re feeling is normal, right? Being infatuated with someone isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”

“I am aware. I am not ashamed. I am unsure. There are few things in the world that confuse me but Drake and emotions have always been two of them.”

Colin nodded his understanding. “Hopefully, since he’s answering your messages now, you’ll be able to unravel the mystery that is Timothy Drake. Then you won’t be as confused by him and maybe he can help you with your emotional confusion.”

“If he keeps answering me. When we spoke last night, it did not go as well as I hoped.”

“Uh oh,” Colin’s voice dropped in concern as Damian parked the car and they exited. “What happened?”

“I unintentionally started an argument. Even after all these years with Grayson and father, the art of communication alludes me. I always seem to word things the wrong way.”

“You don’t word them wrong,” Colin informed, “You just speak what you think. You don’t censor yourself as much as most do. That’s not a bad thing, though.”

“Not taking into account how another person is going to react and censoring myself in order to create a better conversational environment is not a bad thing? I fail to see your logic.”

“Can you honestly tell me that you didn’t consider how Tim would react to you last night?”

Damian paused. He had considered Tim’s reaction but he hadn’t expected it to be as bad as it was. He hadn’t thought that Tim would become defensive when he’d attempted to help him with his case. Though, looking back, his help had come across as interference. Tim had taken his words of caution as criticism rather than the aid they were meant to be. In fact, he’d taken all of Damian’s words as something they weren’t. He’d even started their conversation by asking if Damian was trying to pull some sort of wool over his eyes.

The young Wayne’s steps faltered and Colin continued walking for a few steps before realizing his roommate was now standing stock still in the middle of the parking lot outside their dorm building.

“Damian?” Colin questioned.

“He thought I was trying to trick him,” Damian mused aloud. “He’d gone into our conversation convinced that I had nothing but ill intent. Therefore, before I even replied to him he had already decided that what I had to say was an insult.”

“And that tells you what?” Colin waited for Damian to catch up with him before continuing the walk to their room.

“It tells me what I already gathered last night. The foundation of mine and his relationship is more cracked than I thought it was. I had assumed he knew that when I insulted him it was mostly in jest, but then you remarked that he could possibly not know, and the way he spoke to me last night all but confirmed that your assumption was correct. I am as displeased with this development as I was when I realized that I am infatuated with him. My communication skills, or my censorship, is clearly lacking, but I wish to fix this. However, how do I fix years of insults?”

“You fix the foundation. If he went into your conversation thinking you’d insult him then it was most likely because you’ve shown a pattern of doing so and the likely hood of you deviating from that pattern is basically zero.”

“So, you are saying that I need to deviate from it. That I need to change my behavioral pattern concerning him.”

“Yes. It’ll take time though.”

“Of course it will,” Damian stated flatly. “My father once said that trust is a fragile thing. It takes a life time to build but a moment to break, and I broke Tim’s the first time we met. Now it may take a lifetime to fix it. I am willing to do so, however. If he gives me the chance to.”

“If?”

“I messaged him this morning, but he has yet to respond.”

“Give him the benefit of the doubt. He messaged you back last night. That must mean something. Maybe he’s just busy.”

“Or maybe I pushed him away further.”

“You can always text him.”

“No. Texting would be worse. My phone does not inform me if he reads the messages I send him via text. At least with the site I know if he’s not seen them or if he’s ignoring me.”

“Benefit of the doubt, Dami,” Colin repeated.

“Right. I will attempt to do as you advise,” Damian gave a curt nod as Colin unlocked their room. “What do I do if he does reply back? How do I avoid another argument?”

“Stay away from topics you know irritate him and watch what you say. I wouldn’t say anything that he might take as criticism. Maybe stick to asking about his life. You two never really got to know each other. Maybe you should start over.”

“Clarification?”

“Ask him get-to-know-you questions. The basic things you’d ask someone you just met. The things teachers ask us when we start new classes.”

“Our names, our majors, our hobbies, our home towns, how many siblings we have, and what our parents do,” Damian listed the areas his professors normally requested knowledge about on the first day of every semester. “I think I see the subject matter you’re referring to.”

“And if that doesn’t work, try pointless chit-chat. Like asking how the weather is or about your animals. You could ask if he’s seen any good movies recently.”

“Small talk.”

“Exactly,” Colin confirmed. “It’s nothing big, but it’d be a step in the right direction and it shouldn’t put him on edge. People are generally okay with questions like that.”

Damian sat his coffee down on his desk and began to gather the books he needed for his classes that day. Once his bag was packed and slipped over his shoulders, he picked his coffee back up and turned back to Colin.

“Thank you, for the advice,” Damian stated as his friend -who was lucky enough to have his next two classes be canceled -plopped down in front of their television.

“No problem, Dami,” Colin grinned. “You know I’m always here for you.”

Damian offered the red head one last nod before departing their room for his classes. On his way out the door, he opened the Loves Arrow site on his phone and checked to see if the message he’d left Tim early that morning had been read. It hadn’t and Damian didn’t know how he felt about that, but he would do as Colin suggested and would give the other man the benefit of the doubt. He would wait before messaging Drake again. He would wait and see if perhaps the older bird was merely just busy. After all, he had sounded to be involved in quite the situation back at the manor if the background noise Damian had heard during his conversation with Dick was anything to go by.


	14. Wrong Way, Right Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce doesn't know how to handle Tim's issues and reacts badly.

The sound of Tim’s bedroom door slamming shut resonated in the hall. Bruce stood at the end of the hall, having followed the younger man up the stairs when he’d stormed off in a whirlwind of irritation. Though, if he was being accurate, Tim was more than irritated with his adopted father. He was beyond irritated. He was encroaching in on the territory of anger.

What was Bruce supposed to do though? When his son, who was showing signs of poor health, didn’t come home the night before, he’d automatically assumed the worse. His mind had conjured up an image of Tim passed out in an ally with his dark locks soaking up sewage and his skin turning pale from the chilly night air. Of course he’d panicked, of course he’d called his other sons to see if they’d heard from the boy, and of course he’d felt relief flood him when Jason confirmed that the safe house he’d been letting Tim use had shown up on his system as occupied. Yet, was that relief supposed to overpower his anger? Was he supposed to just ignore Tim’s behavior because he’d managed to get somewhere safe the night before, even if he didn’t return to the manor?

He couldn’t do that. Bruce couldn’t just ignore his anger. He was angry at Tim for not showing that he was responsible enough to take care of himself. He was angry at himself for letting Tim’s neglect of himself to go on for so long that it’d become a habit. He was angry at the Titians for not have reported to him earlier that Red Robin was turning himself into a liability. He was also angry that he hadn’t requested Tim return to the manor sooner than he had.

Bruce was starting to think that helping with Tim’s case was a bad idea. He should have just ended it, like he’d initially wanted to. He should have ordered Tim off it and have made him stay at the manor until he was in better health.  Yet, at the same time, he knew how stubborn his third son could be and Tim wouldn’t have stood for being benched.

The Wayne patriarch was conflicted.

Bruce had known when he’d called Dick that morning that the older bird would have Jason track down their younger brother and he knew that Jason would bring Tim home without a fight. Over the last few years, Tim and Jason had grown close and Jason knew how to get Tim to listen. Just as he knew the second robin would bring the third home, Bruce had also known that he’d be met with fury when they returned.

Tim hadn’t wanted to speak to him when he’d walked through the front doors of the manor that morning. He’d clenched his jaw and walked straight past Bruce. For his credit, Bruce didn’t initially pursue the boy. He’d given Tim time and space; hadn’t approached him until Alfred declared it was time for breakfast and, only then, did Bruce approach the young man’s room.

The patriarch had knocked on Tim’s door firmly but had hesitated before doing so. Clasping his hands behind his back, he’d waited for the shortest of his sons to open his door. When it did, Tim stood in a pair of old sweats and a baggy t-shirt that Bruce recalled had fit the boy properly once upon a time.

Tim hadn’t said anything at first. Instead, he’d looked up at his father figure in wait of whatever Bruce had to say. Bruce had merely told him it was time to eat but when Tim had shook his head and said, “I’m not that hungry. I’m going to take a shower then I’ll grab something to eat,” he had clenched his jaw and responded a little more forcefully than he meant to.

“Your shower can wait. Your breakfast cannot. Alfred has it ready for you.”

“I’m not hungry,” Tim had spoke in exasperation.

“You are,” Bruce had rebutted, to which Tim squared his shoulders and folded his arms. It was a stance that Bruce didn’t find to be at all intimidating on the boy but one that would cause most criminals to hesitate upon seeing.

“I think I know when I’m hungry,” Tim had spoke with edge.

“I’m starting to doubt that,” Bruce hadn’t waited for Tim to say anything else before he’d reached out and took the boy’s arm in his hand. Pulling the boy behind him, he’d forced Tim to the kitchen for breakfast.

Jason and Dick had been there for the morning meal and they didn’t make a single remark as Bruce ordered Tim to take bite after bite of the oatmeal Alfred had filled with vitamin supplements. The atmosphere in the kitchen was charged and those gathered were as careful with themselves as if they were walking on a tight rope. No sound but Bruce’s voice and Tim’s displeased grunts filled the room. Jason, Dick, and Alfred were eating so carefully that not even their utensils made sounds. Everything remained like that until Dick’s cellphone rang.

Dick had nearly jumped at the chance to answer it and had excused himself from the table quickly. As if Dick’s phone had been set to trigger a bomb, the room exploded as soon as he left. Tim refused to take another bite and Bruce tried to force feed it to him. There had been yelling and Bruce had called him irresponsible and made it known that he thought Tim was acting like a child.

Jason had remained silent up until Tim had declared himself an adult and therefore capable of taking care of himself. When Bruce had changed Tim’s words, The first red bird chimed in with, “You think you know everything, old man, but Timmy’s right. You can’t tell him how to live his life.”

That had triggered a three-way argument that had to be broken up by Dick and Alfred and had ended with Tim stomping out of the room. Bruce had followed the boy as Dick tried to convince Jason that Bruce was only trying to help Tim. Now Bruce was left staring at the slammed shut door of Tim’s room and wondering if he could have handled the situation better.

“Don’t beat yourself up too hard,” Dick’s voice drew Bruce out of his thoughts and he turned to find his oldest son leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his knowing blue gaze focused on Tim’s door. “You tried.”

“Not the right way,” Bruce stated.

“Well…maybe,” Dick grinned, “but it’s the effort that counts, right?” His smile fell after that and he added, “There’s something really wrong with him, isn’t there?”

Bruce lifted one of his hands and ran it through his short cut, dark hair. “He has an eating disorder.”

“Bulimia? Anorexia?” Dick’s face screwed up in concern. “Why would he do this to himself?”

“I’m not entirely sure it was intentional,” Bruce stated, his own gazing returning to Tim’s door. “I believe he let his habit of forgetting to eat get out of hand and now his body has adjusted to not eating and is tricking him into thinking that he is not hungry.”

“So how do we fix it?”

Bruce wished he had answer for Dick, but instead he was left staring unknowingly at a closed door. “I wish I knew.”

“Maybe Doctor Thompkins…”

“I’ll call her this afternoon. How is Jason?” Bruce interrupted.

“He’s calm,” Dick answered. “Alfred took him grocery shopping with him.”

Bruce nodded. “Good. I didn’t want to argue with him. I didn’t want to argue with Tim.”

“I know you didn’t and I don’t think Jason was as angry at you as much as he was at how you were handling the situation.” Bruce went to speak but Dick continued talking, which effectively stopped the older man from speaking. “But this is a difficult situation. No one blames you for not knowing how to handle it. Hopefully Doctor Thompkins will have an idea of what to do.”

“Hopefully,” Bruce repeated.

“And, as far as Tim’s case goes, it was Damian that called me earlier and we think we might know why we can’t find Matthew Long’s residence.”

“Yes?”

“Jason suggested that someone could be hiding him…”

“Which wouldn’t be surprising.”

“Right, but Damian had created a list of Long’s friends and then reduced the possible suspects by figure out which ones were on good terms with him when he was assumed dead.”

“And?”

“The resulting list is only three people long and two of them are dead.”

“Are we sure they’re dead?”

“Their bodies have been exhumed and examined for twice for two different GCPD cases since their deaths. There is no reason to suspect that they aren’t.”

“And the third person?”

“It’s Clarence Westwood.”

“He’s Tim’s manager.”

“Right, and he lives at the hotel.”

“That means Long might be staying at the hotel as well.”

“That’s our theory. Since we can’t just go in and search every room of the hotel without blowing Tim’s cover, Damian’s still searching for other possible residences, but I’m sure he’s in the hotel.”

“It’d make since.”

“I have to tell you, though, baby bat’s getting antsy. He’s tired of playing oracle and wants in on the action.”

“I’ll let him out on patrol when he’s back for break. His studies have to come before being Robin.”

“I understand that, but maybe through the kid a bone.”

Bruce looked at Dick in contemplation. He’d been considering how using Tabby’s boyfriend could work to help get Tim into the backrooms faster and had intended on bring up the idea to Tim when he’d returned to the manor, but that conversation had been pushed to the back burner when Tim had failed to return. Now, though, he wondered if Damian could help with the boyfriend angle.

Tim had told Malone that she was dating a guy who wanted her to bring home the dough by working at the hotel. It was possible that he could be involved in the business of Gotham’s underworld and had intentions of pimping Tabby out himself if the girl couldn’t do it on her own. Bruce was already mentally creating Darrin’s identity. He’d be a drug dealer who’d served a light sentence in juvie for petty theft. He could have worked as a freelancer for multiple gang organizations. Adding Two-Face, Scarecrow, or Black Mask to his list of employers would be easy for they didn’t know all the names of their lackeys. Malone could take an interest in Darin and they could bring him in to help talk Tabby’s way into the backrooms.

Once Damian was back, he’d be a suitable candidate to play the role of Darrin and it would get him back into the action like Dick said he wanted. He’d have to call the boy and tell him of his plans. Perhaps knowing that he had a job waiting for him back at home would encourage him to wait out the task at hand and focus on his studies for just a few more weeks. Of course, he should probably run his plan by Tim first, but he was no longer sure he should be allowing Tim to call the shots on this case. Perhaps it was time he took full control of the case.

“I have the perfect job for him when he gets home,” Bruce informed Dick. “I’ll him later, as well. I should see how his classes are going anyway. Did he say anything else while you spoke?”

Dick shrugged. “Not really. He showed some concern for Tim, in that weird Damian way of his.”

“He cares for Tim more than he’ll admit,” Bruce allowed a small smile to play on his lips as he turned to walk back down stairs with his eldest.   

“Yeah. Just like Tim cares more for him then he’ll admit.”

Bruce nodded. “I am pleased they’ve stopped attempting to kill each other.”

“Me too.”

“Sometimes they remind me of you and Jason.”

“Huh?” Dick’s brows rose. “They’re nothing like Jay and I.”

“Not personality wise, but you two didn’t always get along either. There was a time you hated each other.”

“I never hated Jay.”

“Just as Tim has never truly hated Damian, and Jason hated you like Damian hated Tim. They are doing better now, though.”

Dick nodded. “They would well together when they actually try. They could make a good team someday. If they continue to move past their past.”

“Indeed,” Bruce agreed as their once again reached the kitchen of manor.

The patriarch went to get himself a cup of coffee while Dick flopped down at the table, where he’d left his half-finished bowl of cereal earlier. They dropped their conversation as Bruce picked the morning paper up from where Alfred left it on the kitchen island and sat down at the table with Dick. 


	15. Broken Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim deals with the aftermath of his and Bruce's argument and he and Damian speak again.

Tim slammed the door to his bedroom shut and he hopped it had hit Bruce in the face. Venomously, he flicked the lock the door before sliding down it and palming at his eyes. When Jason had retrieved him that morning, and yes it was retrieved because Bruce had literally sent him to fetch Tim like he was a Frisbee that’d gotten lost in the tall grass, he’d known he was in for one of Bruce’s infamous lectures when he got back to the manor. He’d expected to be chided and then glared at for the rest of the day, instead he got…whatever the hell had just happened…

Tim knew that’d he’d been rude that morning when he and Jason had arrived at the manor and maybe that’s what lead up to Bruce’s hurtful words.  The patriarch had been waiting by the front door when he’d opened it and Alfred had been standing not too far behind the broad-shouldered man. He’d clenched his jaw at seeing Bruce’s stance; the way the patriarch squared his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back, as if Tim were a disobedient teenager that’d skipped class. Bruce’s eyes had been icy and Tim had wanted to snap at him, but he sealed his lips tight and walked right past Bruce. His head was still hurting and he was in no mood to deal with Bruce’s temper tantrums so he chose to ignore the Bat and find solace in his room.

Tim had expected Bruce to follow him that first time he’d walked off, but had been pleasantly surprised when the older man didn’t. He hadn’t locked his door that time. Instead, he’d thrown his bag from Jason’s on his bed, changed into some comfy clothes, and then walked over to his desk. If Bruce wasn’t going to force a confrontation then he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d cool off in his room while Bruce cooled off down stairs. Then, after a few passive aggressive remarks to each other, they’d move on like nothing ever happened and while he was waiting for said outcome he’d take the time that Bruce wasn’t using to yell at him and use it erase that damn conversation he and Damian had the night before. Of course the task of removing a conversation from the internet was time consuming and Tim hadn’t gotten the chance to finish it before there’d been a sharp, heavy knock at his door an hour later.

Tim at stared at the door for a solid five seconds before getting up to answer it. He’d known who was on the other side before he’d even seen Bruce standing there, with his hands clasped behind his back and his shoulders squared once more. Bruce and scowled down at Tim and not for the first time did Tim wish he was taller.

The shorter male didn’t miss the way Bruce’s brow scrunched up as his eyes took in Tim’s figure. He probably noticed how baggy the shirt Tim had been wearing was on him. It’s not like it was a big deal though. He’d just lost some muscle mass.

Tim had prepared himself to refute whatever remark Bruce was going to make about the shirt and the way that it didn’t cling to his form, but instead he ended up refuting a breakfast request.

“Breakfast is ready,” Bruce had stated almost casually and it had caused Tim to pause for a moment in confusion before replying.

“I’m not hungry. I’m going to take a shower and then I’ll grab something to eat,” Tim had leaned against his doorframe. Truth was, the thought of breakfast made his stomach churn and he had no real intention of partaking in it. If he had to eat, he’d make sure Alfred or Bruce were present when he swiped a cereal bar from the cupboard later.

“Your shower can wait,” Bruce’s Jaw was clenched and his voice came out forceful. “Your breakfast cannot. Alfred has it ready for you.”

“I’m not hungry,” Tim had spoke in exasperation.

“You are,” Bruce’s refute made Tim bristle and the shorter male tried to square his shoulders and he folded his arms.

“I think I know when I’m hungry,” even Tim had heard the sharpness in his tone.

“I’m starting to doubt that.”

Bruce hadn’t waited for Tim to say anything else before he’d reached out and took the boy’s arm in hand. Tim had tried to struggle, initially, but fighting Bruce was like fighting a brick wall and he’d ended up being pulled down the stairs and into the kitchen for breakfast.

Jason had apparently decided to remain at the manor for breakfast and Dick had either already been there or had arrived while Tim was upstairs, for both of the older birds were seated at the kitchen table and had a plate full of food in front of them. Jason’s plate was piled high with French toast and hash browns while Dick was digging into to a bowl of sugary cereal. Neither of them said a word as Tim was forced into a spot at the breakfast nook.

“Eat your oatmeal,” Bruce commanded as Alfred placed a bowl of the white substance, sprinkled with cinnamon, in front of Tim.

Tim wasn’t an idiot. He was very aware of how intelligent he was and he knew that there was more than just cinnamon in the bowl of mush presented to him. Alfred had undoubtedly filled it with vitamin supplements and had probably slipped his medication into it as well. Tim stared at it distaste but picked up his spoon and took a small bite anyway. Doing so more because one of Bruce’s large hands was weighing down on his shoulder than the fact that his stomach growled at the sight of the food.

After taking a few bites, Bruce seemed to be satisfied with Tim’s behavior and had moved to sit across from him, and next to Dick. The older man thanked Alfred as a plate of eggs and bacon was placed in front of him, along with a cup of hot coffee. Still, the atmosphere in the kitchen was thick and Tim felt like he was nearly suffocating under the looks his family was pretending not to give him.

Jason, Dick, and Alfred were eating so carefully that not even their utensils made sounds and besides Bruce’s remarks about how good Alfred’s food was, the only other sound in the room was the small displeased grunts Tim would make whenever he took a bit of the oatmeal. The room was entirely too quiet and when Dick’s phone rang, Tim nearly jumped. Much like Dick did in haste to answer the device.

“Hey, little D!” Dick’s voice was excited as he pressed the phone to his ear and he hurried to excuse himself from the table. Bruce had gotten up to allow Dick to slip out of the kitchen easily, but it was if the entire atmosphere of the kitchen was a bomb that had been rigged to go off at the same time as Dick’s phone. The blue bird’s exit set off a series of events that left Tim reeling.

Tim had placed his spoon down on the table and swallowed at the bile that was burning his throat. His stomach churned and he felt like if he took another bite everyone at the table would see what color his guts were.

“Tim, eat,” Bruce had ordered.

Tim had shook his head, not trusting himself to speak without something else coming out of his mouth.

“Now, Timothy,” Bruce’s tone was the dark one he normally reserved for the worst of the worst that roamed the streets of Gotham.

Again, Tim shook his head and it was a reply that Bruce was far from satisfied with.

The patriarch practically lunged at Tim and the third Robin found himself struggling as Bruce attempted to force another spoonful of oatmeal down his throat. Tim choked as he was forced to swallow and when Bruce tried for another spoonful he spat the white substance out over his adoptive father’s face.

“Timothy Jackson! This is unacceptable behavior!” Bruce roared.

“I can’t eat anymore!” Tim had shouted back, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. Why couldn’t Bruce see that he wasn’t making it up? He felt physically ill.

“Eat your breakfast!”

“No!”

“Eat your fucking breakfast or I’ll make you eat it!”

“I’m not a child anymore! You can’t tell me how to live my life!” Tim had shouted and it probably hadn’t been the best idea. In hindsight, maybe he should have just ate the stupid oatmeal and left vomit all over the table. Maybe then Bruce wouldn’t have said those words…

“I can when you’re showing that you clearly aren’t capable of taking care of yourself! I thought you were better than this, Timothy. That’s why I let you remain with the Titans, despite your medical issues, but here you are proving me wrong. You are acting like an irresponsible toddler!”

“I am an adult! Stop treating me like I’m a hatchling. I’m not yoru little Robin anymore, Bruce! I know how to take care of my self!”

“Oh really? An adult? You’re right, I’m sorry,” Bruce spoke sarcastically. “ _Of course,_ you’re an adult. _Of course,_ you aren’t acting like a child. Because mature, healthy, adults always spend the night at some godforsaken, rat infested, abandoned safe house when their health is far, far, far below normal levels.”

Jason had remained silent up until then but then the red bird was opening his mouth to say, “You think you know everything, old man, but Timmy’s right. You can’t tell him how to live his life.”

That remarked had triggered a three-way argument that Dick and Alfred had to break up. It had ended with Tim stomping out of the kitchen and up the stairs. And, of course, Bruce had followed him. He probably wasn’t done yelling at him yet, but Tim didn’t want to hear any more. He slammed the door shut and made quick work of the lock. He’d half expected Bruce to try and bust his door down, but instead he got nothing, not even a knock, in response.

So, Tim found himself sitting on the floor of his room with his palms pressed tightly to his eyes. His head was pounding. The argument had done nothing to help ease the ache that had been there since he’d woken up that morning. He wanted to called Conner and tell him everything that was happening his life at the moment. He wanted to cry, and sob, and vent about how Bruce was disappointed with him and how he wished he could fix it but he couldn’t because he just couldn’t eat or sleep as much as Bruce wanted him to. He wanted to tell the clone how tired he was and how his limbs felt like jelly. Most of all, he wanted someone to listen to him and actually believe that he was okay, because he was and everyone thinking that he wasn’t was only stressing him out more than his case already was and he really didn’t need any more stress. But he couldn’t call Kon, because they weren’t’ together and he probably didn’t want to listen to Tim’s pathetic problems when he could be cuddling up on the team couch with his girlfriend.

“Don’t beat yourself up too hard,” Dick’s voice sounded from behind Tim and for a split second he actually thought the older boy was talking to him…actually thought someone was there comforting him, but then he realized that the voice was outside his room and talking to the person Tim had locked out. “You tried.”

“Not the right way,” Bruce stated and a sob caught in Tim’s throat. At least Bruce realized that he’d over reacted and that he probably shouldn’t have tried to force food down Tim’s throat.

“Well…maybe, but it’s the effort that counts, right?” Dick’s first sentence had been spoken lightly but Tim pressed his ear closer to his door when he caught how his older brother’s voice took on a darker tone with his next sentence. “There’s something really wrong with him, isn’t there?”

Tim couldn’t help but press a hand over his mouth to smother the sob that threatened to come out of him. _‘Not Dick too,’ he_ thought. ‘ _Please, don’t let Dick think I’m broken too.’_

When Bruce spoke again it was with a firm certainty that told Tim his father had already decided what was wrong with him and that he wouldn’t be swayed. “He has an eating disorder.”

“Bulimia? Anorexia? Why would he do this to himself”

 _‘I’m not!’_ Tim yelled in his mind. _‘I’m not doing anything! There’s nothing wrong!’_

“I’m not entirely sure it was intentional,” Bruce stated and Tim felt a small swell of hope. Maybe Bruce didn’t think he was broken after all. “I believe he let his habit of forgetting to eat get out of hand and now his body has adjusted to not eating and is tricking him into thinking that he is not hungry.”

 _‘Bullshit! I’m not hungry because I’m not hungry, not because my body is playing a prank on me!’_ Tim had to stop himself from opening the door and giving Bruce another piece of his mind.

“So how do we fix it?”

Fix it...like he was broken. Like Tim was just a gadget that needed a replacement part.

“I wish I Knew.”

“Maybe Doctor Thompkins…”

“I’ll call her this afternoon. How is Jason?”

No…not her…Doctor Thompkins was who Bruce pulled in or consulted with when things were too serious to be handled at the cave. She’s who they called when one of them were close to meeting the reaper. If Bruce was calling her than he thought that Tim wasn’t just broken but shattered.

“He’s calm. Alfred took him grocery shopping with him.”

“Good. I didn’t want to argue with him. I didn’t want to argue with Tim.”

_‘Bullshit! Bullshit. Bullshit. Bull. Shit.’_

“I know you didn’t and I don’t think Jason was as angry at you as much as he was at how you were handling the situation…but this is a difficult situation. No one blames you for not knowing how to handle it. Hopefully Doctor Thompkins will have an idea of what to do.”

“Hopefully,” Bruce repeated and Tim couldn’t bear to listen to any more of their conversation. He forced himself to stand, even though his legs shook under his own weight, and made his way to his desk. The program he’d left open on his computer before breakfast was still there and waiting for him to complete, but it would still take hours before he’d successfully erased all evidence of his and Damian’s conversation.

He sat down, in front of the lap top, hoping to set the program to run on its own and then sneak out of the manor for a while. He needed to get away…to get somewhere he didn’t feel like he was being suffocated and maybe he could call Stephanie. Even though Kon wouldn’t listen to him, maybe she would. Yet, as he went to start the program, he noticed and unread message in the thread he was about to tell the program to delete. Despite his better judgement, he opened it and what he saw made him pause for a moment.

_Damian Wayne: Good Morning._

Damian had messaged him again…even after they’d fought the night before. Why was he still messaging Tim? If this wasn’t a prank then what was going on? Did Damian really mean what he’d said the night before? Was he really messaging him in an attempt to be nice?

Tim didn’t know and he wasn’t sure if he cared. All he knew was that, at that moment, he felt weak and like he needed to talk to someone. So he created a new message thread and set the program to delete the old one. While the program ate away at their former conversation, Tim started a new one.

_Timothy Drake: Good morning…though I’m not so sure there’s anything good about it. You’re lucky you’re not here._

Tim honestly hadn’t expected to get a reply back right away but, then again, he honestly hadn’t checked to see if Damian was online before he’d sent the message. So, when the three dots that signaled Damian was typing back appeared on his computer he was only partially shocked.

_Damian Wayne: I am sorry your morning has not been pleasant. I overheard father shouting at you while I spoke to Grayson on the phone this morning._

Tim pressed his lips together in a thin line as he knew Damian would have asked Dick about whatever he’d heard and that Dick had probably willingly given him all the details.

_Timothy Drake: I’m sure Dick told you everything then._

_Damian Wayne: What he told me is not important, for he is a third-party source._

The corner of Tim’s mouth twitched up for a moment before returning to a more neutral expression. 

_Damian Wayne: I know from experience that arguing with father is not always black and white. It is easy for others to not understand the point of the argument. That being said, if you would like to talk about it, I am willing to listen._

_Timothy Drake: …and then blackmail me, right?_

_Damian Wayne: No. I swear, I have no ill intent._

_Timothy Drake: No ill intent…you do realize no one but you talks like that, right?_

_Damian Wayne: You’re trying to change the subject._

Of course, he was. Tim didn’t want to talk to Damian, of all people, about his personal problems. The boy was a double-edged sword. What he told him that day could come back to bit him in the ass the next. Still…Tim glanced at his phone, which sat beside his computer, Kon was too busy for his problems…

_Timothy Drake: If I tell you you’ll just side with Bruce._

_Damian Wayne: Why don’t you let me decide who I will side with instead of making my affiliations for me._

Tim paused for a moment, his hands hovering over the keys of his computer before he slowly lowered his fingertips to type.

_Timothy Drake: Bruce thinks there’s something wrong with me…everyone does._

_Damian Wayne: Why would they think that?_

_Timothy Drake: At first it was because I wasn’t sleeping regularly but now they think I have an eating disorder._

_Damian Wayne: Do you?_

_Timothy Drake: No._

Tim was sure that Damian was expecting a longer reply than that, but he really didn’t know what else to say. It probably wouldn’t matter what he said anyway because Damian would only take Bruce’s side in the end.

_Damian Wayne: So why does father think you have one?_

_Timothy Drake: I’m not eating as much as he wants me to. It’s not because I don’t want to eat, though, or because I think I’m fat or something. I just haven’t been hungry._

_Damian Wayne: Do you eat when you’re hungry?_

Tim thought back to the afternoon before when his stomach had growled and he’d ate a cereal bar.

_Timothy Drake: Yes._

_Damian Wayne: Then it seems awfully unfair of father to accuse you of having such a condition. However, I must ask, when you eat is it something healthy?_

_Timothy Drake: Sometimes. It’s normally something like a cereal bar or an apple. I eat little things here and there._

_Damian Wayne: But not meals?_

_Timothy Drake: …no, that much food...I don’t have a big enough stomach for it._

_Damian Wayne: Oh, I see. I heard father say you were acting like a child, if this is why, than he is in the wrong. After all, you are eating and taking your meds. Maybe you could use some sleep though. I am not there so I really cannot tell._

Tim actually smiled this time. Talking to Damian was going much better than the night before and he didn’t feel like the younger man was ganging up on him like he felt Dick and Bruce were. This was nice. It was almost enough to untense his shoulders.

_Timothy Drake: Don’t rush to come back. Things have been crazy here and you’ll probably get sucked into all the drama when you do return. Besides, I bet whatever you’re doing right now is more interesting that listing to Bruce and I argue._

_Damian Wayne: Not even. I am sitting in a mundane history class. I already know everything the professor is teaching. Most of my classes are too easy._

_Timothy Drake: I know, but you need that business degree._

_Damian Wayne: That is what father keeps telling me._

_Timothy Drake: Of course, he does. You do realize he wants you to have for more than just a trophy, right? This goes beyond hanging it on a wall in the manor._

_Damian Wayne: What do you mean?_

_Timothy Drake: Come on, Damian. You’re smarter than this. Bruce wants you to take over the company someday. That’s why he’s pushing you so hard. He doesn’t want your degree to sit here in the manor, he wants it on display in your office at Wayne Enterprises._

_Damian Wayne: Yes, I’m sure father has some position picked out for me at the office. It is probably a boring one ment to keep me out of trouble._

_Timothy Drake:…I wouldn’t call it boring…_

_Damian Wayne: You know what it is?_

_Timothy Drake: I’m surprised you don’t…Mr. Future CEO._

There was a pause as the three dots appeared and then disappeared several times before Tim actually received a response from Damian.

Damian Wayne: That is your position.

Tim frowned. Yes, once upon a time, it was his position and, yes, many people still believed Bruce would give the position back to him once he died for real. However, Tim had always known that the position didn’t belong to him. Just like he knew that upon Bruce’s real death he would not be given it again. He was sure that Bruce had even already changed his will to say so.

_Timothy Drake: The only reason I ever had that position is because you weren’t old enough to hold it yet. I was just your placeholder…like I was for the bird gig. It seems to be my role in this family._

Tim hadn’t meant the words bitterly, even though he did sometimes till feel like he was only kept around in case anyone needed temporarily replaced. Yet, Damian’s next words let him know that his words had been taken more venomously than intended.

_Damian Wayne: …I am sorry I took your place when I came to the family. I promise, I have no intentions of taking another position from you._

_Timothy Drake: No. Don’t be. That’s not what I meant. The position was never really mine to begin with and I’m okay with you having it, really. I was just…talking…I guess…_

_Damian Wayne: I hope that what you say when you are just ‘talking’ is not what you really think. You do know that you are a valuable asset to the family, do you not?_

_Timothy Drake: Yes. I know._

_‘No you don’t,’_ that inner voice whispered to Tim. _‘But don’t let the kid know that. He’ll just blab it to B and then you’ll be labeled as depressed too.’_

_Damian Wayne: Good…I must go. I have a meeting with my advisor, but I will speak to you later. I hope you can have a more pleasant rest of the day._

_Timothy Drake: Yeah, you too. Talk to you later._

Tim leaned back in his chair and watched as his message read that it’d been seen and then the icon signaling that Damian was online disappeared. Yes, that conversation was much more pleasant than the last one they had.

A knock on his bedroom door drew his gaze from his computer. “Who is it?”

“Master Timothy, I brought you something to snack on while you work,” Alfred’s voice floated in from behind the door.

“I’m not hungry, Al, but thank you,” Tim rolled his eyes. If he couldn’t finish his oatmeal what made Alfred think he could eat anything else?

“It’s your favorite. Chocolate chip cookies and milk. They’re fresh from the oven.”

Well, okay, maybe he could eat a cookie.


	16. Finding the Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian goes in search of answers as to what's caused Tim to reach his current situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not edited! I know. I'm sorry. I need to do better at editing. I'll fix any errors you point out to me. 
> 
> Also, I know this is not the best chapter yet. I swear Damian will be home soon and then things will get more exciting.

Damian stared down hard at the screen of his phone. He’d been in class when Tim had finally messaged him back that morning and had almost left just to call the other male instead, for the longer they talked the more obvious it became that something was wrong.

Tim’s words, “Bruce thinks there’s something wrong with me,” were haunting Damian. He kept going back through their conversation to stare at them, to reread everything that Tim had sent him. He could almost hear the broken tone -the defeated tone -that would have been used had the words been spoken out loud and that bothered him. The thought of Tim being broken bothered him. The thought of anyone thinking Tim was broken bothered him.

The fact that Damian was hundreds of miles away and couldn’t do anything to help Tim bothered him the most. Perhaps he should return home early. He’d barely touched his allotted sick days for the semester. He could use the rest of them to go home a week early and spend the rest of the current week gathering the assignments he’d need to take with him. It could be done. It was a very easy plan. It was going to happen…of course his father would probably claim his early return to be unneeded. He’d just have to convince the older man otherwise and, if he couldn’t, he’d had plenty of practice not folding under his father’s famous bat glare.

There was still the matter of what was actually wrong with Tim, however. Damian couldn’t hope to return to Gotham and ‘fix’ -god, he hated applying that term to Tim -what was wrong with the older bird if he didn’t even know what it was. He knew his father and Grayson were under the impression that Tim had and eating disorder, but Tim denied having one and Damian wanted to believe the Red Robin. Also, both Grayson and Bruce were third party sources…like he’d told Tim. They knew the boy in question but they weren’t close enough to him for Damian to feel comfortable assuming they knew what was wrong with him. Todd and Brown, on the other hand, knew Tim quite well. Damian was sure that they’d be able to give him a better idea of what was wrong with Tim than his father and Grayson ever could.

With that thought in mind, Damian eagerly walked to his advisor’s office. He would be calling one or both of them as soon as he was done with his pointless meeting. Honestly, he didn’t understand why his advisor insisted on meeting with him every couple of weeks. It’s not like their meetings were ever productive. They were just checkups…unneeded checkups. All his advisor wanted to do was make sure that Damian was doing well in his classes and to encourage him to participate more. Apparently, a couple of his professors were under the impression that he needed to talk more in class. Damian really wanted to tell his advisor to tell them that if they wanted him to talk more than they needed a more challenging curriculum that would actually make him want to participate in group discussions. However, as it was, he had promised his father before coming to the university that he would play nice so instead of tell his adviser where he thought his professor could shove it, he sat there quietly with a polite smile on his face and gave empty promises of attempting to participate more in class.

His meeting with his advisor that day went the same as all the others and he found himself letting out a sigh of relief when he left the too brown office twenty minutes later. He hadn’t even left the building his advisor’s office was in before he had his phone in hand and was calling a familiar number.

“Todd here,” Jason’s voice came through the phone’s speaker only moments later.

“Todd,” Damian’s greeting was sharp and he made a mental note to keep himself in check for the duration of his and Jason’s conversation. The older bird would be more willing to indulge Damian if he didn’t feel like the younger was being cheeky.

“Demon brat,” Jason’s own tone was dull, less enthusiastic than his own greeting had been, like hearing Damian’s voice had sucked all joy out of his life. “This is a surprise. To what do I owe the honor of having you call me?”

“Am I correct in believing that you and Drake are close?” Damian cut straight to the point, knowing the longer he stayed on the phone with Todd the high the chance of one of them starting an argument would get.

“Huh? Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I haven’t tried to kill him in a few years and sometimes he comes over for pizza and beer, so sure. We’re close. What’s it to you?” Jason inquired.

“How is he? And I want the truth, not some bullshit excuse meant to dismiss my concerns.”

Damian waited, but there was only silence on Jason’s end of the conversation. He gave a displeased growl as he added, “Father and Grayson will not tell me all of what’s going on with him and he’s told me enough to raise me concerns.”

“You’ve talked to him?” Jason asked in bewilderment.

“Yes,” Damian gritted out.

“Don’t get defensive, baby bat,” Jason chided, “I’m just shocked. I didn’t know you two knew how to talk to each other. I was under the impression that you two communicated through threats and various forms of physical violence.”

Now it was Damian’s turn to be silent as he didn’t know how to respond to that, but eventually he managed to say, “It’s a new development. I’m trying to be nicer.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Yes. You’ve Damian Wayne, you’re never nice and you’re especially never nice to Tim. Dick is the only person you seem to actually like.”

“You are mistaken. I like other people. Dick’s presence was merely the first of our family that I grew to tolerate. Now, I am finding myself caring for others as well. Drake included and…” Damian hesitated, unsure of how Jason would react to his next words, “I’ve become very worried about him. I do not expect you to understand, Todd, but I do hope that you can find it in you to tell me how he is.”

“You don’t expect me to understand?” Jason gave a deep, yet boyish laugh. “Oh, baby bat, I’m probably the one that would understand the most. I’ve seen how you started looking at him before you left for that cushy university of yours. You haven’t merely started caring about him, have you? You’re attracted to him. You’re smitten with him.”

“How dare you! You think you can accuse me of crushing on him?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m merely stating what I’ve noticed. It’s okay, you know?” Jason paused. “I was where you are once. With Dick. I didn’t want to like him. Most days I wanted to punch his fucking face in, but then my desire to hurt him decreased and my desire to protect him increased. I guess it happened gradually, but to me it felt like it was over night. One night he and I were bickering and instead of kicking him the fuck out of my safe house, I let him crash on the couch. The next morning, I woke up thinking about how much I’d like to wake up every morning knowing he was there. The realization that I liked Dick more than I wanted to hit me like a fucking truck.”

Damian drew in a breath for Jason had just accurately described what it’d felt like the moment Damian, himself, realized he cared for Tim more than he should.

“Now, I’m assuming B and the others don’t know about your little crush, so I’ll keep it to myself, but don’t pretend with me that you’re asking about Tim just out of curiosity or a new-found friendship. You’re asking because you fucking _care_ about him, like I care about Dick…like Bruce cares about Selina.”

The younger bird swallowed and he worried for a moment that he’d done so harshly enough for it to be heard over the phone. He had to clear his throat and shake his head to rid himself of the shock that had fallen over him before continuing his conversation with Jason. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong with him, or not? Or are you going to continue speaking to me about catching feelings? Because of it is the later than I will safe you the trouble and end this conversation right now.”

“Cool your jets,” Jason chuckled. “I’ll tell you what I know, but it’s not much. Might be even less than Dick and B. What have they told you?”

“Nothing. Just that something is wrong and that he is not taking care of himself as much as he should.”

“Well, they’re right about that. I thought things would get better, not worse, when Stephanie told me that she’d convinced him to sign up for an online dating site. Granted, it’s only been a couple weeks, but he’s not showing any signs of improvement.”

“Why would you think that setting up an online dating profile would improve his health?”

“Because even though Tim has never been good at caring about his health, he got worse after his break up with the superman rip off.”

“Grayson told me about their breakup. He’d made it sound like they’d mutually agreed to end their relationship.”

“That’s what Tim told everyone, but I’m not so sure that’s the truth. He’s acting pretty depressed for a guy who was okay with breaking up with his long-term boyfriend. Sure, break ups suck and no one ever leaves unscathed, but he’s worse than I would have thought he’d be. I’m not his best friend, though, so he’d fed me the same story about him and the clone that he fed to the rest of the family. If he told anyone a different version, it would have been Stephanie. Those two are like a couple of peas in a pod. They’re pretty close. I guess that’s what happens when you know someone as deeply as they do.”

“Hm,” Damian nodded and then realized that Jason wouldn’t be able to see it and added, “thank you, Todd. I will call Brown ask her for more information.”

“Go for it, brat, but don’t expect her to be forthcoming. She and Tim are the kind of friends that would die for each other’s secrets. Seriously, if Tim murdered someone and hid them under the floorboards of the manner, Stephanie wouldn’t tell a single soul if she knew.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Just, out of curiosity, before I let you go to call her, do you believe that Drake has an eating disorder?”

The sigh Jason let out was ragged and rough with exhaustion. “I think Tim has a broken heart and that he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

“Okay. Good bye, Todd. Thank you for your assistance.”

“Heh, anytime squirt. And, just for the record, I’d ship you two.”

“Ship?”

“Yeah, like in those fanfics about us.”

“You read those?”

“No, but Dick does and he likes to read out loud.”

“I see.”

“Yeah…you wouldn’t believe what someone people come up with. Anyway, I guess I should let you go call Stephanie. Bye, baby bat.”

“Good bye, Todd.”

Jason was the one that ended their call but Damian was quick to dial Stephanie’s number as soon as his phone displayed the ‘call ended’ screen.  He was back in his dorm room and dropping his backpack by the door before the call was picked up.

“Hello?” Stephanie’s voice had a edge of suspicion to it when she answered.

“Hello, Brown,” Damian began, just as he had with Jason.

“Why the hell are you calling me? Dick not available to help with whatever problem you have?” Stephanie was being more vicious than Jason had been and Damian once again found himself making a mental note that he needed to make sure to speak in a way that would not set his adoptive sibling off.

“It is good to speak to you too, Brown. You sound stressed. I hope I am not interrupting anything important. If I am I can call back later,” Damian tried to pacify his sister.

“No,” Stephanie’s voice was strained but lacked the viciousness her previous statement. “I’m not busy. Cass and I were just getting ready to go out for lunch. What can I help you with?”

“I have a question and I am hoping that you will be willing to lend me an answer.”

“And your question is?”

“What is wrong with Drake?”

When Stephanie did not immediately reply and the silence on her end stretched for so long that Damian had to check his phone to make sure she hadn’t hung up on him, he decided to continue speaking in hopes of clearing up any confusion or distrust Stephanie was feeling at that moment. “Grayson and father are telling me very little and Drake, himself, has told me some information that bothers me. He believes them to believe he is broken, somehow. I know that Grayson and father suspect him of having an eating disorder, but when I spoke to Drake this morning he denied having one.”

“You’re speaking to Tim?” Stephanie asked just as Jason had.

“Yes. I know it is hard to believe, I have already gone through this with Todd, so allow me to assure you that I have no ill intent here. I am trying to turn over a new leaf with Drake and his current situation has me worried.”

“As cute as that sounds, I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t blame you for that,” Damian admitted. “I have been nothing but a threat to Drake since my arrival in Gotham. I’ve done nothing but physically, emotionally, and verbally abuse him over the years, but I have grown to care about him and the idea of something being wrong with him does not sit right with me. I wouldn’t have called you otherwise.”

“I guess so…” Stephanie’s voice trailed off for a moment. “Look, Tim’s my best friend, and I don’t trust you. My loyalties lie with him, so I can’t tell you anything.”

“Please. Todd told me that he believed Tim to be acting out because of heart break. He believes that Tim is unintentionally hurting himself because of whatever happened between him and the Superman clone. I was under the impression that their break up had been mutual, but Tod convinced me that it might not have been. So, I am calling you because I have been speaking with Tim and I would like to try and help him, but I cannot do so if I don’t know what caused him to reach the point he has, and you are the person most likely to know whether or not the break up really is to blame for this.”

“I’m sorry,” Stephanie stated. “I can’t help you.”

“Please.”

“No.”

Damian pinched the bridge of his noise in frustration. This is not how he’d hoped his conversation with Stephanie would go. He seemed to have found the person that knew the most about Tim but her loyalty to him had become a road block in his journey to help the other boy.

“This is not how I wanted to do this,” Damian spoke out loud after coming to the conclusion that if he wanted anything from Stephanie he’d have to tell her of his feelings for Drake. By the end of their conversation, he knew that two more people than there had previously been would be aware of his feelings for Tim. He just hoped that neither Jason or Stephanie would go blabbing them to his father. The conversation that would surly spark was not one he was eager to attend.

“A lot of things don’t happen the way you want them to. Get used to it. It’s called life,” Stephanie snorted.

“No, I mean…I did not plan on…I…” Damian clenched his jaw and flopped into one of the bean bags in front of his and Colin’s television before saying, “I have developed…feelings…for Drake…”

“...” there was a long silence on Stephanie’s end before, “Are you serious?! How? When? Why the hell am I just finding this out?! I’m your big sister. You’re supposed to tell me these kind of things, you know!”

A small, sincere smile found its way to Damian’s lips as a warmth filled him at the way Stephanie had switched gears from protective-mama-bear to excited-big-sister.

“The feelings started a few months before I came to the university,” Damian admitted with the small smile still on his face. He never would have guessed that he would enjoy talking about his feelings for Tim with Stephanie, but he was. He felt almost giddy. Like those girls he saw at movies with their boyfriends. He wondered if the same excitement would be visible in his eyes at that moment or if he’d been trained well enough that his eyes were as dull and masked as his face was. Not counting the smile, of course. The smile he currently wore did not count as a slip of his mask of indifference. He was merely indulging himself since no one else was around. He could hide the smile if he chose too. Sure he could. “Our communicating is a much more recent development. One that I have come to understand is thanks to you.”

“Huh? Crazy bat boy say what?”

“It was you that put him up to setting up an online dating account, which is how we’ve begun to communicate.”

“Woah, back up…you have an online dating account?”

“It was a dare.”

“Now that, I believe,” Stephanie’s smile was audible in her voice. “See, I knew him setting up a profile was a good idea. Have you told him how you felt? Are you two dating?”

“What? No. I have told him nothing of my feelings. We have many things we must first work our way through before I can even consider doing so, but that does not stop me from wanting to help him. Please, Br-Stephanie, please help me help him. I hope that by learning the source of his situation I can help him. Like learning the source of a poison. You can’t create a cure if you don’t know what toxin ails you.”

“You really do want to help him, don’t you,” Stephanie’s voice was soft. “You don’t know how much I want to be able to tell you what really happened between him and Kon-el, but I swore to him I’d keep it a secret. He wants everyone to belive the break up was mutual. His intentions were to keep everyone from worrying about him, but obviously that didn’t work.”

“So the break up was not mutual?”

“I can’t tell you that. All I can say is that Jason was right. You’re friends with some of the Titans, yes? Perhaps one of them can tell you more.”

“I have some acquaintances with them,” Damian admitted with a sigh, “but I had hoped you would be the one to help me.”

“I know and I wish I could, but…”

“You’re loyal to Tim. I understand. I will not ask you to risk the tight knit friendship you have over this. Thank you for the lead.”

“Damian,” Stephanie’s voice was still soft. “I know getting to know Tim is hard. He’s put up a lot of walls to protect himself over the years, but maybe instead of going through his friends to learn the truth, you should just try asking him. He might surprise you with how much he’s willing tell.”

“He does not trust me. Not fully. I have only begun to clean away the dust on the ruble that is our relationship”

“You sound so sad. That’s a tone I never thought I’d hear from you. That means you must really care about him. Keep talking to him. Strengthen your friendship with him and maybe one day he’ll tell you what happened. If he does, then you two might have a chance of becoming something more. And, Damian?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll be rooting for you. I know I’m not Dick and that you have a better relationship with him, but if you need someone to talk to…I can’t tell you Tim’s secrets but I won’t tell him yours either.”

“Thank you, Stephanie. I apricate that. I would also apricate it if you did not tell father about my feelings for Drake.”

Stephanie’s laugh was musical as she agreed, “I promise I won’t tell him, or Alfred, or our brothers.”

“What of Cain?”

“That I cannot swear too. I tell Cass everything.”

“I sincerely hope that Todd does not share the same kind of relationship with Grayson, otherwise everyone in the family but Father and Alfred will know by this evening.”

“Oh, honey, I’m afraid your hope is in vain. Jason and Dick are as open with each other as Cass and I, but I can promise you that neither Cass nor Dick will tell anyone else.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because they are our sound boards as we are theirs. You’ll understand once you’re in a committed, long-term relationship.”

“Will Grayson gush over me because of this?”

“That I don’t know. He won’t in front of Bruce, but in private…eh...Grayson’s an odd duck. I can’t tell you what he will or won’t do to you in private once Jason tells him.”

“Great,” Damian grumbled.

“Lighten up, baby bat,” Stephanie soothed. “Everything will be fine. Just focus on healing our boy, because, honestly, you might have the best chance out of all of us at doing so if you really care for him as much as you claim to.”

“I really do.”

“Then don’t give up. Whatever road blocks you hit. Whatever hurdles you have to jump. Whatever Tim throws at you to keep you at bay. Keep pushing forward, because the only way you’re going to get Tim to open up to you is if you are relentless in your pursuit of him. Relentless, but delicate. With your history with him, you have to be delicate.”

“I know. He perceives me as more of a threat than an ally, but I swear I will change that.”

“The best of luck to you.”

“Thank you,” Damian could hear Stephanie whispering a, ‘I’ll be right there’ to her girlfriend so he was quick to wrap up their conversation. “What aid you could give was welcomed. Now, I refuse to keep  you from Cian any longer. Go enjoy your lunch.”

“I will. Good bye, Damian. We’ll see you back in Gotham soon.”

“Sooner than you think,” Damian stated after he’d ended their call. He wondered if he could convince Alfred to call his school and tell them that there was a sudden family emergency he was needed home for. With that excuse he could leave for Gotham within the next twenty-four hours…but, no. Alfred would undoubtedly ask Bruce first and then his father would be calling him to dish out a speak about how Damian needed to remain at school until Thanksgiving break. It would be much better if he waited out the week and then used his sick days to leave on Saturday. Once home, Bruce could hardly make him return to complete the next seven days of classes before break. It’d be a waste of his time, at that point.

Damian smiled to himself, realizing that this time next week he’d be home and he’d be able to speak to Tm face to face instead of through  messages.


	17. Just a Checkup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim is forced to speak with Dr. Thompkins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really short update. I almost skipped writing this chapter, but I felt it was semi-needed. I'll be posting a second one later tonight and I promise it's longer than this one. 
> 
> Also, I honestly can't remember how long ago I said it was that Tim and Kon broke up. I know I mentioned it somewhere in the story, but I can't find it. Since my first instinct was to say six months in this post, that's what I went with, but if any of you know what time frame I gave before, I'll totally change it to match.

****

It wasn’t fair. No matter what Bruce said, it wasn’t fair. Tim was a legal adult and Bruce had no right to ground him from his costume as if he were still riding shotgun in the Batmobile. Just like he had no right to make Tim call into Tabby’s work and pretend to be sick so she wouldn’t have to work for the next few days. Bruce was going to ruin his case and he told Doctor Thompkins as much when he was intercepted by Bruce and her in the cave two nights before.

“This is ridiculous,” Tim protested as Bruce led him and the good doctor out of the cave and up to his private study. “I should be out working on my case, not getting a checkup. Time is precious, B, and Tabby’s going to lose her job if you make me stay away from it for much longer.”

“Don’t worry about Tabby. Malone’s made some calls,” was all Bruce would say about the matter before he instructed Tim to have a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk.

“Timothy,” Doctor Thompkins began, taking a seat in the identical leather chair next to Tim’s. Bruce, himself, had taken up residence in his own chair, behind the desk. “Your father is worried about you. Just give me a few minutes of your time and then I’m sure he’ll let you return to your nightly routine.”

Bruce had clenched his jaw at the good doctor’s suggestion, but he hadn’t made a verbal response. Tim hugged himself and sank deeper in the leather chair. All the robins had sought comfort in that chair before and all of them had received scoldings in it as well. Bruce’s office was always meant to be a safe place for them. A place where their double identities came together to create one. This had allowed for the boys to let their guards down when in the study. So much so, that it was habit to let themselves become vulnerable at the door. As a result, Tim curled in on himself. He brought his knees up, his feet resting on the cushion of the chair, and wrapped his arms around his legs. His chin fell to rest atop his jeans as he stared across the desk at Bruce.

“I doubt that,” Tim mumbled his response to the doctor, but kept his gaze focused on a stack of papers on Bruce’s desk.

Leslie gave the boy a comforting smile while his guardian’s mouth twisted into a worried scowl. Tim was looking more and more frail by the day and Bruce didn’t want to say anything, for he didn’t want to anger his son, but Alfred had informed him that it’d taken him nearly an hour and a half to get the younger man out of bed that morning. Normally Tim, like his brothers and Bruce, would wake up immediately to the sound of Alfred’s voice calling their names. Or, he’d at least wake up when Alfred opened his bedroom curtains. That morning, however, Tim hadn’t budged an inch until Alfred had forcibly rolled him out of bed and the boy _still_ looked tired.

The dark circles around Tim’s eyes had turned almost black and his skin was paper white.  He looked like he was dying and that worried Bruce more than anything ever had. He’d dealt with losing sons before. Jason’s death…Damian’s death…they were almost the end of him. He’d grieved for them. He’d thought they were gone and when they came back he’d been torn between relief, confusion, and paranoia that it was all a trick. He couldn’t bury another son. If he had to put Tim in the ground, Bruce was sure he’d fall apart.

“Timothy,” Bruce kept his voice even, soft, as he leaned forward and folded his hands atop his desk, “I’m not pulling you from the mission permanently. I promise you, I have full intention of allowing you to return to the field, but you have to know that you are in no condition to be working the case you are. You have become sickly and Tabby’s work is a pit of bacteria. As your father, I cannot condone you working there until we get your situation under control. Especially with your already weak immune system.”

“I can’t afford to lose weeks on this case,” Tim stated. “I’m close to finishing it.”

“I know you are and if you cooperate with us then you can get back to it.”

A rough sigh tore itself from Tim’s throat. “…Fine…what do you want me to do?”

“Why don’t we start by simply talking,” Leslie was balancing a notepad on her knee and twirling an ink pen around her fingers. “Bruce tells me that you haven’t been yourself lately. Would you say that is true?”

Tim shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess. I’ve been a little off my game.”

Leslie nodded. “And when would you say this started?”

“A few months ago.”

“How many months is a few?”

Tim’s teeth bothered his lower lip as he thought back to the previous months. He and Kon had broken up roughly four months ago…or maybe it was five…yeah, it was closer to five, but he’d begun to feel tired before that. “Six months. I think. It’s nothing though. I’m just tired.”

“You think you’re overworking yourself?”

“That’s what the Titans think.”

“She asked what you thought,” Bruce pointed out and Tim fell silent for so long that Leslie decided to ask a different question.

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?” Leslie inquired of the younger Wayne.

“Tired,” Tim’s response was quick.

“Can you expand on that?”

“Really tired. I didn’t want to get up today, but Alfred made me.”

“When was that?”

“At ten.”

Leslie cocked her head to the side. “That was only three hours ago.”

Tim gave a halfhearted shrug.   

“When did you fall to sleep last night?”

“I don’t know. I fell asleep multiple times. I work up almost every hour.”

“Have you ate anything today?”

“Alfred made me eat a granola bar and drink a glass of juice with my medication.”

“Just a granola bar?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“What about for lunch?” Leslie continued.

“Haven’t ate lunch. I’m not hungry.” Just as Tim finished speaking his stomach growled and he buried his face in his knees. Leslie and Bruce shared a look.

“Tim,” Leslie leaned forward and folded her hands atop her notepad, “Was there any significant event that occurred in your life six months ago?”

The third Robin didn’t answer. He just sat there. With his face buried in his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs, he sat there. Both Bruce and Leslie’s gazes felt like the weight of a thousand worlds as they bore down on him. He knew they wanted an answer, but he had none to give. At least, he had none that he wanted to share.

Six months ago had been when Connor had first brought up the possibility of ending their relationship. It was also the first time he’d met his ex’s current girlfriend. If he told Bruce and Leslie about it then Bruce would know that he’d lied about his and kon’s breakup being mutual.

It hadn’t been mutual. He and Connor hadn’t agreed to go their separate ways like he’d tried so hard to convince himself and everyone else that they had. Though the words Connor had used that day had made it seem that Tim was agreeing with him to end their relationship, Tim hadn’t wanted it to end. He’d agreed, but only so he wouldn’t have to say that he’d been dumped. Still, that’s what had happened. Connor had broken up with him and that rejection had hurt more than any wound Tim had ever received, but if he told Bruce and Leslie that then they would only use the knowledge to support the case they were trying to create against him. So he kept his mouth shut tight and his face hidden against his knees.

“Okay,” Leslie breathed out as Tim’s silence stretched on. “Here’s what we’re going to do…”


	18. Preparing to Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian gets ready to return to Gotham early.

Crack!

Damian winced as a bo staff snapped across his back. He’d miscalculated his last move and it’d lead to him turning right into his opponent’s strike. Hiding the sting in his back behind the smirk he shared with his father, he dropped to the ground and threw himself into a spin. The kick he gave caught his opponent’s knees and the man let out a grunt as he fell. He wouldn’t stay down for long though, so Damian had to move quick.

The young Wayne launched himself up and delivered a kick just strong enough to force his opponent the rest of the way to the ground. Blue eyes looked up at Damian as a strong, but lean back now lay against the mats covering the floor of the cave training area and he found it unnerving that he couldn’t tell what the mind behind those eyes was thinking. He readied himself, squared his shoulders, and made sure his footing was firm as he placed the end of his own staff against his opponent’s neck.

“Critical strike,” Damian declared and as his opponent’s silence stretched on he began to worry that he was missing something vital. Perhaps he didn’t have the man as cornered as he thought he did. The man’s bo staff lay off to the side, Damian was leaning over him, with one foot pressed against his chest in order to prevent him from attempting to rise. Yet, the man’s gaze was steady and unyielding. As if he knew something Damian didn’t.  However, instead of attacking, the man beneath him smiled.

“You’re improving,” the man held out a hand and it was if a fog lifted from Damian’s mind. The man’s smiling face suddenly became more clear and his features became more distinguished, allowing Damian to fully recognize the man he had pinned to the mats.

Damian’s breath caught as the man laughed and waved his outstretched hand.

“You going to help me up, demon brat?”

“Tt,” Damian rolled his eyes and took the hand stretched out for him. Helping pull his opponent to his feet, he said, “I would have thought you’d be able to regain your footing without my aid, Timothy.”

“You _would_ think that, wouldn’t you?”

“And why wouldn’t I?” Damian turned away from Tim for only a second as the cave computer gave a beep, but when he turned back his eyes widened in horror.

Tim’s eyes had sunk into his skull, his clothes were hanging off his body like they were three sizes too big for him, his skin grew pale, and as he opened his mouth to say something the ground beneath him began to crack and fall away.

Damian grasped Tim’s hand tightly as he desperately tried to pull him back on to solid ground, but it was as if someone had coated his hands in olive oil and he couldn’t keep his grip. Tim’s fingers slipped from his own as easily as water through a crevice and he let out a silent scream. His eyes, an empty blue, stared right into Damian’s own as he fell.

“Timothy!” Damian awoke with his predecessor’s name on his lips and sweat dripping down his forehead.

Colin, who was seated on a beanbag in front of their television, paused the game he was playing to look over at his roommate.

Damian groaned as he threw himself back down on his bed and asked, “What time is it?”

“One in the morning,” Colin answered with a raised brow. “Interesting dream?”

“More of a nightmare,” Damian admitted.

“You shouted Tim’s name.”

“He fell and I couldn’t save him. I cannot return to Gotham quick enough,” Damian spoke as he tossed his covers off and swung his legs around so he was sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Good thing it’s Friday then,” Colin stated. “You can leave after your last class.”

“I was going to leave tomorrow.

“I know you were, but it’s already been a long week and the sooner you go home the sooner you can help Tim and put your mind at ease. Your dad’s going to be mad that you’re going home early anyway. What difference is going home a day earlier going to make?”

“I see your point,” Damian hopped off his bed. Running a hand through his damp hair, he sighed, “and you are correct. It has been a long week.”

Friday had taken it’s sweet time arriving that week. In fact, the week had gone by so sluggishly that Damian had almost been conceived he was stuck in time. His initial plan was to spend Friday tying up any lose ends at the university before returning to Gotham the following day, but he had already collected most of the assignments he’d need to complete in the upcoming week and his classes ended at eleven that day. Colin was right, he could go ahead and leave as soon as his last class was over. Or sooner, if he really wanted to. Skipping that day’s classes would hardly affect him.

“Are you returning to Gotham with me?” Damian asked his best friend. “Or are you planning on partaking in the courting tradition of going to a girl’s home?”

Colin hummed as he’d begun to play his game again, “If only, but it’s back to Gotham for me.”

“I thought you had begun seeing a girl. Did you not tell me three days ago that you and she were dating?”

“Taylor and I broke up,” Colin stated dully.

“After only three days?”

“Eh, she was a bitch. Said some shit about a friend of mine.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Damian stated.

“I guess I could come back to Gotham with you today,” Colin continued as if Damian hadn’t spoken. “I called Jason last night and told him about Taylor. He mentioned that I could stay with him and Dick over break instead of at a motel, like I planned. I could call him back and tell him I’m coming back a week early.”

“Jason found out you and Taylor were over before I did? I thought you were the one who insisted that as best friends we are required to tell the other everything regarding our lives,” Damian remarked.

“I did. I do. But you were already a sleep when I got back last night and I didn’t want to wake you up. You get cranky when I do that.”

“I would have been fine with it.”

“Ptt, sure,” Colin chuckled. “You say that now, but you woke up on your own this time.”

“I would have preferred to have been awoke by you. I do not enjoy dreaming of Tim falling to his doom.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m sure things back in Gotham aren’t as bad as your subconscious thinks they are. Tim’s a smart guy. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“He is smart, but he can also be careless. Not on cases, of course, but with his health.”

“Yeah, he does seem to live off coffee and Doritos. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him take a break. Even when we were younger and I’d visit you at the manor, he was always hunched over his laptop, working on something.”

“He’s dedicated,” Damian stated, “something I’ve always admired about him, but it is possible that he is a little too dedicated. Perhaps that very aspect of him is his hamartia. However, I am hoping you are correct and that I have convinced myself that the situation back home is worse than it truly is.”

“Me too,” Colin aggressively hit a series of buttons on his game controller.

“So, you will be returning to Gotham with me then?”

“Yeah. I’ll call Jason once the sun comes up. He’s probably just getting home from patrol.”

“It’s only one fifteen,” Damian informed. “He’s most likely still _on_ patrol. Unless it was a quiet night.”

“I should still wait to call him. Wouldn’t want to call if he’s in the middle of intimidating a rapist or something.”

“That is very true.”

Damian unplugged his phone from where it was charging on his desk and stared down at it in confusion. On the screen was a notification from Tim, but it hadn’t been sent through the Loves Arrow website. It was a text message. The name Drake was displayed at the top of it and Damian opened the message to see a single sentence written out beneath the name:

_Bruce is an ass._

Damian chuckled to himself when he read the message and took a few seconds to reply:

_What did father do this time?_

The younger Wayne hadn’t expected an immediate reply. For he thought for sure that Tim would either be working on his case or sleeping but, as he grabbed his duffle bag from the top shelf of his closet, his phone beeped at him. He waited to open the message until he’d sat the bag on the floor and opened a dresser drawer to begin packing for his trip home.

_Drake: He’s kicked me off my case until further notice and made me talk to Dr. Thompkins._

Damian made sure to think about how to respond to Tim before responding back. He wanted to make sure his reply came off as supportive, but he could not fully say that he disagreed with his father’s decision. For, if things were truly as bad at home as his subconscious was tell him in his dreams then he had to trust that his father knew what he was doing.

_Damian: Does he not expect this to impact your case?_

_Drake: He says Malone’s taken care of it._

_Damian: Than I am sure all is fine. It is rather rude of him to treat you as if you are a child though. Taking someone off a case is normally something he does to me._

No reply came from Tim for a while and Damian managed to pack most of his bag before his phone beeped again.

_Drake: I’ll have to talk to you later. Alfred just came in and threatened to take away all my tech unless I go to sleep._

_Damian: You should sleep then._

_Drake: Yeah, I..._

Tim’s message had either been accidently sent, or intercepted, and Damian stared at its two words as he tried to decide if he should reply to it or not. Just as he was about to type back a reply, another text came through and though the name said it was from Tim the wording said otherwise.

_Drake: Good night, Master Damian. Your brother is resting now. Please refrain from messaging him further for your messages will only reach me for the remainder of the night._

Leave it to Alfred to confiscate Tim’s phone. Not that Damian expected him not too. Alfred was much like Bruce in that sense…or Bruce was much like the older man. They both went through with their threats. Oh well, Damian thought, he might as well use the opportunity of having Alfred’s attention to prepare him for what would soon be coming.

_Damian: Good night, Pennyworth. I shall see you and the family tomorrow._

_Drake: You shall? I do believe your break is not for another week, Master Damian._

_Damian: I have chosen to return early._

_Drake: I take it that your father is unaware of your decision._

_Damian: Indeed._

_Drake: I will inform him. I suggest you ready yourself for the consequences of your actions._

_Damian: Noted._

When Alfred did not send a reply to Damian, the younger man returned to packing his bag. The finishing of his task took less than a couple minutes as he did not have to pack much since most of his belongings were already at the manor. Once he was done, he took a seat next to Colin on the unoccupied bean bag.

“Grab a controller. You can drop in,” Colin urged, but Damian shook his head.

“I don’t wish to play right now. I will merely observe.”

“Suit yourself,” Colin shrugged and continued to play his game.

Damian sat quietly beside his friend for the next hour, as he watched Colin take out multiple vampires with his battle axe. His mind was too preoccupied to focus on the quest Colin was trying to complete, however, for his thoughts were still being drawn to Tim. Even in his waking hours, his mind refused to settle. He hoped that once he returned to Gotham it would calm down as he would be in the mist of Tim’s situation instead of hundreds of miles away, where he could do nothing more than wonder.


	19. I'm here.

 

“God, it’s colder than Satan’s balls outside!” Dick complained as he pushed open the door to his and Jason’s apartment. In his arms he carried a large paper bag full of groceries and his cheeks were tinged pink from the trek he’d made from his car to their door.

Tim watched from his spot on his brothers’ couch as Dick handed the bag of groceries off to a chuckling Jason and began to pull his gloves, hat, and coat from his body. Dick kicked the apartment door shut behind him as he hung his coat up on the rack hanging on the wall. He rubbed his hands together and blew into them on his way over to couch.

“I did warn you before you went out,” Jason spoke from the kitchen, “but no. _Someone_ thought we needed to have homemade pizza for dinner instead of take-out. We could have just called the Chinese place down the street and you could have stayed on the couch, binge watching _Girl Meets World_ with baby bird instead of going outside, but did you want Chinese? No. You wanted pizza. And not just pizza, homemade pizza.”

“And not just homemade pizza,” Dick grinned as he flopped down on the couch, next to where Tim was curled up beneath a blanket. “ _Your_ homemade pizza.”

“ _Alfred’s_ homemade pizza,” Jason corrected. “Fuck, we could have even just gone to the manor. Alfred would have been more than happy to make it for us, you know that.”

“Yeah, but baby bird needs a break from the manor,” Dick stated.

“Yes, he does. That’s the only reason why I agreed to cook the goddamn pizza if you went out to get the groceries.”

“I thought you said it was because Dick would burn down the kitchen if he made it,” Tim interjected.

“He would and I did,” Jason admitted.

“Hey! I’m not _that_ bad of a cook,” Dick protested.

“Last week, I was making Jello and you asked me why I’d melted it in a sauce pan,” Jason paused in his process of taking the groceries out of the paper bag.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll give you that one, but, to be fair, I’d never actually seen anyone make Jello before,” Dick remarked. “Also, you know there’s another reason why we couldn’t be at the manor tonight.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“There is?” Tim questioned.

“Uh huh,” Dick picked up the television remote and turned the volume up on the TV. “Jason invited Colin to stay with us over Thanksgiving break and he called to tell us that he’s coming back early.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“Huh,” Tim hummed as he turned his attention back to the show playing on the TV. He watched in silence as the characters on the TV dealt with the drama of high school and found himself relating to all of them in some aspect or another. The chill from outside had slowly crept into the apartment and Dick got up during the middle of one of their episodes to turn the heater up.

“There has to be a storm coming in,” Dick stated once he was once again sitting beside Tim. “Bet we’ll have snow by Thanksgiving.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Jason added from the kitchen.

“It’s too early for snow,” Tim commented. “I’d rather have the leaves stick around for a while longer.”

A comfortable silence once again fell over the three birds as Dick and Tim continued watching their show while Jason half listened to the TV while he made dinner. Tim’s mouth began to water as the smell of homemade pizza sauce drifted through the apartment. Parsley, oregano, Italian seasoning, and tomatos were only some of the ingredients that Tim knew for sure were in the sauce and even though he could have sworn up and down that he wasn’t hungry he wasn’t going to protest too much when his brothers would make him eat the pizza.

Even since his meeting with Bruce and Dr. Thompkins, Tim’s eating habits had improved. Though it’d only been a couple of days and Tim still felt physically ill whenever he tried to eat, he knew that the system Leslie had implemented into his daily life had taken a weight off his family’s shoulders. Bruce had been less snippy with him at dinner time, for he knew he’d be finding out later that night just how much his son had eaten throughout the day and he knew that if the record didn’t show at least three meals then he would remind Tim that if he didn’t do the program they’d agreed upon there was another, less pleasant option. It was an option that Tim had no interest in. Being locked away in a hospital until he showed signs of improvement wasn’t something he wanted or something his case could afford at the moment. So, the notebook that Leslie had given him to keep track of everything he ate in would have to suffice.

Of course, the book was more than just a private record. Tim was required to eat three meals a day and he was to record what he ate and about how much of it he ate, then someone who wasn’t him had to sign off that they’d witnessed him eating. Before he’d go to bed at night, he was to place the notebook on the desk in Bruce’s study and when he woke up in the morning the notebook would be waiting for him to begin again, with a new signature added to the day before, stating that Bruce had indeed seen the notebook.

Currently, said notebook was resting on the coffee table in front of him and Dick. Its yellow cover declared in bold, black letters, ‘Timothy’s Notebook,’ which had been written on with a sharpie by Alfred. Next to the notebook rested two mugs, both with horrible puns plastered on their bodies. One of the mugs, which was Dick’s, was empty, while the other had stayed full for most of the evening. Coffee, after all, was not something Tim would ever turn down and Jason had made sure to tell Tim repeatedly that he was welcome to use their coffee machine to his heart’s content.

As Jason continued to cook and the aroma of his masterpiece continued to fill the apartment, Tim allowed his eyes to slip shut. He listened to the characters on the TV and to Dick laughing at their antics, but he was much too tired to stay awake. Much too tired and much too comfortable. Dick had been right when he’d said that Tim had needed out of the manor. Being away from Bruce and Alfred’s ever watchful eyes had eased some of the tension he was caring around with him. Along with the blanket he was curled up under and the amount of warm coffee he’d drank, sleep came easily to him. He didn’t even know when he’d fallen asleep. One moment he was hearing laughter and the next he was out like a light.

It felt like it’d only been a few second before he was being shook awake by a hand on his shoulder. With blurry vision, he blinked up at the face of his second oldest brother. The white streak in Jason’s hair hung down over his forehead as he smiled down at Tim.

“Wake up, baby bird. It’s dinner time,” Jason helped haul Tim to his feet and kept a hand on the younger’s shoulder as he guided him into the kitchen.

When Tim took a seat at the kitchen table, Dick placed a plate in front of him and Tim was happy to note that there was only one slice of pizza on it, along with a scoop of peaches. Next to the plate was a glass of juice and a gathering of pills. Tim went for the pills first, swallowing them with the aid of the juice before slowly picking at his pizza.

The slice of pizza, covered in cheese, Canadian bacon, and olives smelled amazing, but Tim’s stomach churned as he eyed it. He really didn’t want to eat the food, but he knew he had to.

“We’re just requiring you to clean your plate,” Jason stated when he noticed how Tim was tearing off little pieces of his pizza to eat. “You don’t have to have a second helping.”

“We’ll sign your notebook if you eat the pizza and peaches,” Dick promised.

“I am eating it,” Tim remarked and continued to slowly tear apart the pizza. In the time it took Jason and Dick to each devour four slices, Tim only made it through half of one.

“Can I take a break?” Tim requested. “I’ll finish the rest later.”

“You’re almost done, Timmy,” Dick urged. “You’ve already ate half. Can’t you try to finish it?”

“Come on, Timbers,” Jason prompted. “You can do this.”

Tim stared down at his half-eaten slice of pizza in disgust. His stomach gave a violent lurch and he had to swallow back bile that threatened to rise. Gently, he pushed his plate away from him and shook his head.

“I can’t,” he stated in defeat as he folded his arms on the table and dropped his forehead to them like a whiny teenager. “I can’t do it. Don’t make me eat anymore. Please. I’ll throw it all up if I do.”

There was a ragged sigh from across the table and the sound of wood being scrapped cross the tiled floor as Dick stood. Plates clinked together and Tim remained where he was as the kitchen sink faucet turned on. The steady sound of water filling the sink was almost comforting as Dick set to work on washing that night’s dishes. Jason, however, had yet to move from the table.

“Come on, Timmy,” the red bird continued to urge. “Just one more bite.”

“No,” Tim shook his head against his arms and knew he was behaving like a child but he didn’t care.

“Please?”

Again, Tim shook his head and again Jason went to encourage him to continue eating. However, this time Jason’s words were cut short as a knock at the front door drew his attention.

“Dick, take care of this?” Jason requested before Tim heard his chair push away from the table and then Dick was back, the faucet was off, and his plate was being gently pushed against his arms.

“Come on, Baby bird. For me? Just one more bite?” Dick requested and Tim couldn’t help but think of how good of parents the duo would make. Together Jason and Dick would be great fathers. They’d encourage their kids and use gentle promptings like they were doing to Tim. Tim hoped that they’d one day adopt a child. It’d be good for them.

“We’re here!” A loud, boyish voice came from the living room and Tim chose to focus on it instead of Dick.

“Colin! Damian!” Jason greeted. “Glad to see you. How’d your drive go?”

“It was pleasant enough,” Damian’s voice met Tim’s ears and Tim found himself sitting up and making pleading eyes at Dick.

Damian had come back to Gotham with Colin. Damian was back a week early. Damian wasn’t supposed to know just how bad off Tim was. He couldn’t let Damian see him like this, so weak and behaving like petulant child. The other boy would never let him live it down.

“Don’t tell him,” Tim whispered to Dick as Jason’s voice grew closer and multiple footsteps approached the kitchen.

“We’ve got pizza in the kitchen if you two are hungry. Dick and I already ate, but I think Tim’s till eating.

Curse you, Jason fucking Todd. Tim glared down at his pizza as the trio entered the kitchen.

Tim didn’t immediately look up as he felt the number of bodies in the room increase. His gaze remained locked on his pizza, unwavering, as Dick got up to great their younger brother and his friend.

“Pizza? Thank god! I’ve fucking starving!” Colin declared and moved to get himself a slice as Dick hugged Damian.

“It’s good to see you Dami,” Dick stated.

“It is not unpleasant to see you as well, Grayson,” Damian stated and was it just Tim’s imagination or had the youngest bird’s voice dropped an octave since they last spoke?

“You don’t have to stand, Colin,” Jason was saying. “You can sit at the table with Tim.”

“You can join them, Dami, if you want,” Dick added. “The pizza has Canadian bacon on it, but there’s some salad in the fridge or some peaches in the bowl on the counter if you want something to eat.”

“I am good, but thank you for the offer,” Damian informed and Tim could feel his eyes on him.

“I’m done,” Tim stated and got up to empty his plate in the trash. Jason and Dick scowled at him but neither said anything as he washed his plate and sat it to dry in the dish drainer. “I should probably be getting back to the manor. Bruce and Alfred are expecting me back by nine.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Dick reluctantly agreed.

“Give us a second to sign your notebook,” Jason stated and Tim glared at him for bringing up that stupid eating record in front of Damian and Colin.

“Sign your notebook? Are we back to being in grade school again, Timothy?” Damian asked and though his words seemed rude his tone was far from such. The soft, almost worried tone had Tim finally looking up to meet the younger’s eyes and he found himself drawing in a breath at the sight before him.

Damian was dressed casually in a pair of faded jeans and a long sleeved, jade colored shirt. With his black jacket and the sneakers on his feet, he almost looked like a normal college kid. His hair wasn’t gelled up in its usual manner, but was laying flatly and Tim found himself thinking about how good that hair style looked on the other man.

“I, uh,” Tim stammered as his blue eyes met Damian’s green ones and he lost his train of thought. “What?”

Damian raised a single, perfect brow. “Grayson and Todd have to sign a notebook for you. I was attempting to make a joke about how in grade school teachers would require parental figures to sign students’ planners to show that they’d done their homework.”

“Yeah, I know, I just…ummm,” Tim trailed off awkwardly then took a deep breath to steady himself. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? Oh right, it’s because his older brothers were currently standing in the living room signing his eating report while he tried to avoid telling Damian about the problem everyone had declared him to have.

“It’s something Bruce wants me to do,” Tim rolled his eyes like it was one of Bruce’s attempts to parent better and not an attempt to get him to eat better. “You know how he gets sometimes.”

Damian didn’t seem to be satisfied with Tim’s answer but he gave a nod all the same. “Very well, then. It is good to see you, Timothy.”

There was his full name again. That was the second-time Damian had called him Timothy in the last couple of minutes and Damian _never_ called him by his first name. He always used his last. Even through messaging, it was rare for Tim to get any other name that Drake from him. Who was this tall, olive skinned, college boy standing in front of him?

“It’s good to see you too,” Tim returned Damian’s sentiment. “You look well. College must be treating you right.”

“It has been alright. Though it has not been as challenging as I hoped.”

“Yeah, it was pretty easy for me too,” Tim admitted. “Freshman year is like that. I promise it gets harder as it goes on. By the time you hit senior year you’ll have enough internships and credit hours that you’ll be wishing for this year back.”

“I find that unlikely,” Damian’s response was quick and rough. Tim watched in confusion as Damian shook his head slightly and restated his statement, “That came out rude. I’m sorry. I meant that I hope you are right, but right now I can’t see how that will be so.”

“Here you go, Tim,” Jason and Dick reentered the kitchen and handed Tim his notebook. Damian’s eyes followed the book as it was passed from Jason’s hand to Tim’s own. “Let me grab my coat and I’ll give you a ride back to the manor.”

Tim opened his mouth to thank Jason but was cut off by Damian.

“That’s not necessary,” Damian stated. “I have my car and will be driving to father’s shortly. Timothy can accompany me.”

“Timothy?” Dick asked.

“Yes, Timothy. Our brother. The third Robin. The genius in our family. The coffee addict. The leader of the current Titans and the current head of Wayne’s applied Science department, along with Lucius Fox.”

“Woah, woah, I don’t need his fact list,” Dick laughed. “I’m just shocked to hear you call him by his first name is all.”

“I see,” Damian said in return and Tim noted that the youngest Wayne shifted slightly on his feet. He kept his posture rigid, but his weight distribution was wrong and see-sawed from his left to right foot repeatedly for a few seconds before evening out on both. He was nervous about something. At least, that’s what such a movement would mean out in the field while analyzing criminals. Damian Wayne, however, never got nervous. It was an emotion that Tim was all but sure he never felt. The young heir always radiated confidence. Seeing him act otherwise made Tim straighten his posture.

“You should get used to it. It is something I will most likely be doing a lot of in the future.” Damian was looking at Tim when he spoke even though his words were meant as a response to Dick.

 Now it was Dick’s turn to raise a brow.

“Well, it’s good to see you two getting along,” Jason spoke up with a knowing grin. “As long as you two can promise to play nice on the ride home I see no reason why he can’t ride back with you. Saves me a trip and I don’t have to go out in that freezing weather. Fuck, it’s cold out there.”

“You’re telling me. The temperature dropped by twenty degrees when we entered town,” Colin spoke around the pizza in his mouth. “Almost made me wish we’d stayed at the university until break actually started.”

Jason and Dick laughed, Damian cracked a smile, and Tim continued to stare at Damian as if he’d suddenly sprouted antlers.

“It’s supposed to be worse next week,” Jason informed.

“There’s snow in the forecast,” Dick added. “Not much. Just a few inches, but enough that we might be able to make a snowman on Thanksgiving Day.”

“And here I was hoping for a friendly game of football,” Colin joked.

“I’d kick your ass, kid,” Jason stated.

“Which is why I’d be on your team,” Colin grinned.

“Nuh uh, I get Jason on _my_ team,” Dick full out grinned. “He and I could take on you, Dami, and Timmy all at once.”

“Keep dreaming, Grayson,” Damian’s remark was light hearted and a small smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. He threw a sideways glance at Tim and smirked even more as he caught Tim hurrying to turn his gaze from him.  “It’s nearing eight. If Timothy needs to be home by nine I suppose we should leave. Father is probably anxious to talk to me as well. I have ignored his calls all day.”

“He’s going to be pissed that you’re back early,” Jason stated.

“May the force be with you,” Dick grinned, “and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

“Bye, Timbers,” Jason pulled Tim into his chest, his arms went around to lock around the smaller man tightly and he lightly patted the younger’s back.

“Bye,” Tim flinched as his voice came out timid rather than the casual tone he’d been going for.

Dick pulled Tim to him as soon as Jason let go. “If you need another break from B or the manor, give us a call. One of us will come get you. You’re always welcome here.”

“Always,” Jason confirmed.

“You two drive safe,” Dick added as Tim retrieved his coat from the rack by the front door and Damian stood patiently beside him.

“Be careful out there, with those winds,” Colin added from where he still sat in the kitchen, eating pizza.  

Damian offered both Jason and Dick a nod of departure when he followed Tim out the door. Neither he nor Tim said anything as they trudged down the steps of the apartment and out into the blistering cold. As he fished his car keys from his pocket, he used his peripheral vision to keep an eye on Tim, who had pulled the edges of his coat collar up to help protect his face from the whistling wind.

Tim tried to bury his face in his coat collar as he crossed the street to Damian’s black car. His knuckles were white as he clutched at his notebook. He wanted to push them into the warmth of his coat pockets but then he’d have to let go of the notebook, so he bounced lightly on his feet as Damian pressed the button on his keys to unlock and automatically start his car. As soon as the lock clicked off, Tim was opening the front passenger side door and sliding onto the black leather seat there. He felt instant relief as heat blasted from the vent in front of him and landed on his face.

The air from the vents stirred up the air already in the car’s cabin. A dark, exotic spice with a deep earthy undertone swirled around Tim and he found himself inhaling the scent. His eyes closed as he leaned back in the seat. A warmth began to form along his back and under his rear which informed him that Damian had switched on his seat warmers.

The dashboard behind Damian’s steering wheel glowed a soft green and he began to pull out of the parallel parking spot he’d expertly parked in. He remained silent until he was driving down the street and towards the manor. Only then did he open his mouth to say something to Tim, who’s eyelids were growing heavy in the seat beside him.

“If you’re tired, you should rest. I’ll wake you when we reach home,” Damian stated.

“Huh?” Tim blinked himself awake and sat up straighter in his seat. He hadn’t realized he’d allowed himself to slip low enough that he was more laying than sitting. “No, I’m fine. I took a nap at Jason and Dick’s. I’m not tired.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. I can see the dark lines beneath your eyes.”

“Really, Damian,” Tim sighed, “I’m fine.”

Damian didn’t say anything in return, but he did reach over and turn on the radio. Soft, soothing music cooed in Tim’s ears, causing his eyelids to droop even more. Damian didn’t comment on how easily the other man was succumbing to sleep despite having stated that he wasn’t tired. Instead, he began to gently sing along to the radio’s melody and hoped his voice was having as much of a comforting effect on Tim as he wanted it too.

Within only a few moments Tim’s eyes had slipped completely closed and his breathing evened out in the steady pattern of sleep. A sad smile graced Damian’s mouth as he reached over and smoothed a hand over Tim’s hair before allowing himself the act of holding Tim’s hand in his sleep. His jade eyes flicked down to the notebook nestled atop Tim’s thighs before returning to the road ahead of him. He wasn’t naive enough to not have an idea of what that notebook was for. Especially since he knew it’d required Jason and Dick’s signatures before Tim could leave. Obviously, Tim’s situation was as serious as he hoped it wouldn’t be.

Now that Damian could see the way Tim’s eyes were sunken and could clearly take in how papery pale his skin had become, he knew, without a doubt, that something deep was wrong with Tim and he would make sure to devote his every waking moment to helping heal the other male. Even if it required him staying in Gotham longer than two weeks. He didn’t care what his father would say or what Alfred would say. He didn’t care about the support Grayson would try to give him while at the same time encouraging him to return to the university. All he cared about was seeing Tim returned to himself. His already small, lean body was contorted and leaning in on itself. He looked so small, almost childlike, wearing the hoodie that sagged from his form beneath his jacket. Damian would not stand for this. He _would_ find out what had pushed Tim down this path and he _would_ mend the situation, because Timothy Drake deserved to be happy and, right now, he looked like a licked puppy that had been living in a rain gutter.

“Everything’s going to be okay now,” Damian promised the sleeping man. “I’m here and I promise you, I’m going to help you through this.”


	20. Alfred Knows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually split this chapter in half so I could post something on the story tonight. I've gotten most of the second half written and should have it up in a couple days...hopefully. Thanks for your patience.

Bruce had been less than ecstatic about Damian’s early return to Gotham. To say he was livid would be a lie, but to say he was accepting would be a serious understatement. Damian had known that he was in for a lecture before he’d even pulled up in front of the manor. Bruce opening the door, instead of Alfred, and doing so before Damian had even exited his vehicle only assured the younger Wayne that he’d predicted his father’s reaction correctly.

                “Damian Bruce Wayne,” Bruce growled as he stepped out of the manor. Alfred lurked in the doorway behind him, his face blank and his eyes watchful.

                The youngest Wayne rolled his eyes as he came around to the passenger side of his vehicle. Timothy was still asleep in the car and Damian had no intention of waking the frail boy. He could feel his father drawing closer to him as he opened the passenger door and bent to retrieve the sleeping bird. 

                Timothy was curled up like a child on the leather of his seat. His head was pressed to his knees and his arms hugged himself. Damian couldn’t help the small smile that made the corner of his lips twitch as he brushed back the dark strands that had fallen over Red Robin’s forehead. One of his arms slipped beneath Tim’s legs while he used the other to cradle the smaller man’s back. It was too easy for Damian to lift him. Too easy for him to swing around and kick the door of his car shut. Really, it should have taken more effort to carry Tim and he felt his heart clench as he realized that.

                “What the hell were you thinking? Do you realize how missing this week of school could affect your grades?” Bruce was in full on parent mode and Damian paid him no mind as he walked past his father. He was surprised that the older man didn’t try to take Tim from him or say anything about him carrying the other bird.

                Bruce picked up the notebook that’d fallen from Tim’s lap when Damian had picked him up. He dusted off the cover before holding it in one hand as he followed his youngest son inside the manor. 

“We made a deal that you would go to school and get your business degree. If you are not going to do the responsible thing and honor this agreement than you cannot expect me to give you my company.”

                “It is not as if I am dropping out, father,” Damian’s voice was calm when he spoke. “I will be returning.”

                The younger Wayne looked down at the boy in his arms. He watched Tim unconsciously shifted closer to him, how he fisted Damian’s jacket, how he rubbed his nose against the dark fabric for a second before settling against the younger man’s chest, and how his eyelashes fluttered as he dreamt. He thought of the words that Tim had messaged him a few weeks ago. About how he was sure that one day he would be replaced at Wayne Enterprises and how he was sure that Damian would be the one to take his place. He thought about the boy in his arms and he thought about how much he really didn’t want to hurt him. Not anymore.

                “Besides,” Damian spoke again as his father shut the manor door behind them, “I do not know if I am interested in taking over the family company any longer.”

                “What?” Bruce’s steps faltered and Alfred cleared his throat as he reached to take Tim from Damian.

                Damian held on to Tim tightly and shook his head, refusing to give the other man to the butler. Alfred raised a brow at the action but didn’t attempt to take Tim from his youngest ward again.

                “Perhaps Master Damian needs a few years to find himself,” Alfred spoke in a calm, cool tone. “You, yourself, sir, went galivanting across the world before coming back to take over your father’s business. If I recall correctly, those travels helped turn you into the man you are today.”

                “Well, yes, but I was…”

                “Master Bruce, if you proceed to say that you were different then I will disagree with you. I was much more worried about you out all alone in the world than I would be with Damian. The boy has learned much from you and he deserves some space to spread his wings, so to speak.”

                “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Pennyworth,” Damian proceeded to climb the manor stairs, intent on putting Tim to bed before doing anything else. He considered telling his father and Pennyworth that he had no intentions of leaving to go anywhere until Tim was returned to health, yet the situation seemed to be working out for him at the moment and suddenly exclaiming his intentions in regard to Timothy would alert his father to his true feelings for the older bird. That was something he very much didn’t want to happen. Therefore, he kept his thoughts to himself as he kept walking, aware that Bruce and Alfred were still very much following him. Even as he approached Timothy’s room.

                “Allow me, Sir,” Alfred opened the door to Tim’s room swiftly and stepped aside so Damian could enter.

                Damian paused for a moment as he took in the mess that was Tim’s bedroom. Bruce was still speaking angrily to him but he wasn’t listening to the words as he looked over the clothes scattered around the room, the makeup kit laying upside down and open on the dresser, the blanket that was well on its way to falling off the bed, and the pile of papers scattering the desk. Tim had never been the most organized out of all the birds, but Alfred was normally capable of keeping his untidiness in check. The fact that Tim’s room was in such a state meant one of two things. Either Tim had become even more messy than normal or he hadn’t been allowing Alfred in to help him straighten up.

                “I do apologize for the mess, Master Bruce,” Alfred was speaking as he was straightening up the bed. Damian realized that Bruce had stopped talking and was looking around the room in a skeptical manner much like his son was. “I did ask master Tim to allow me to clean his room earlier, but he insisted that all I do was the laundry. As you can see, I have barely made a dent.”

                “This is getting out of hand,” Bruce grumbled.

                “Indeed, Sir, but things often get worse before they get better,” Alfred remarked. “At least he has been keeping up with the notebook.”

                Bruce clutched at the notebook in his hands as Damian carefully laid Tim on the bed. Alfred didn’t even give the younger Wayne the chance to pull the blanket up and tuck it around Tim like he wanted to. The butler did it himself.

                “Thank you, Master Damian. I appreciate you bringing your brother up here for me,” Alfred stated and then, with crinkles around his eyes, “I promise not to tell him of your good deed when he awakens.”

                Damian found himself at a loss for words. He didn’t know what to say as he stared down at Tim’s sleeping face. The other man’s brow had furrowed and he ached to reach out and sooth Tim’s worries away, but his father and Alfred were still in the room. He turned to give some kind of snippy remark, but he was saved from doing so when he saw his father staring down at Tim’s notebook.

                “What’s that notebook about anyway,” Damian made himself sound huffy and put out as he folded his arms. “Grayson and Todd were fusing over it earlier and Drake refused to let it out of his grip.”

                “You should stop antagonizing your brother,” Bruce spoke monotonously as he thumbed at the pages of the notebook. “He has enough problems right now without you adding on to them.”

                “What kind of problems?” Damian pressed, hoping to get any information from Bruce that he didn’t already know about. “Just how bad off is he? He felt like a fucking feather when I carried him up here.”

                “Language, Damian,” Bruce’s voice didn’t gain any emotion. “Go to your room. We’ll discuss your punishment for coming home early tomorrow. For now, it’s late and I have other priorities to deal with.”

                Bruce walked out of the room with his nose stuck in the notebook and his eyes reading over whatever was written in it. Damian scowled at his father’s retreating figure.

                “Punishment? He is aware I am not five, correct?”

                A firm, protective hand placed itself on the youngest Wayne’s shoulder and Damian turned to see Alfred looking at him with an unreadable expression.

                “Humor him, Master Damian. Your brother had placed enough stress on him that I fear he may go grey before the end of the month.”

                “Do you know what’s wrong with Drake?”

                “I know not the source, but I can confirm what I am sure you already know from your conversations with your other brothers,” Alfred’s eyes crinkled again when Damian’s jaw fell open to dispute the fact that he regularly spoke to Dick and Jason over the phone. “Don’t act so surprised. Jason tells me everything and Dick tells me anything I ask about.”

                Damian paused at that as he recalled the last conversation he and Jason had over the phone.

                _“You don’t expect me to understand? Oh, baby bat, I’m probably the one that would understand the most. I’ve seen how you started looking at him before you left for that cushy university of yours. You haven’t merely started caring about him, have you? You’re attracted to him. You’re smitten with him. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m merely stating what I’ve noticed. It’s okay, you know? I was where you are once. With Dick. I didn’t want to like him. Most days I wanted to punch his fucking face in, but then my desire to hurt him decreased and my desire to protect him increased. I guess it happened gradually, but to me it felt like it was over night. One night he and I were bickering and instead of kicking him the fuck out of my safe house, I let him crash on the couch. The next morning, I woke up thinking about how much I’d like to wake up every morning knowing he was there. The realization that I liked Dick more than I wanted to hit me like a fucking truck. Now, I’m assuming B and the others don’t know about your little crush, so I’ll keep it to myself, but don’t pretend with me that you’re asking about Tim just out of curiosity or a new-found friendship. You’re asking because you fucking care about him. Like I care about Dick. Like Bruce cares about Selina.”_

 _‘_ Yeah, way to keep that information to yourself, Todd,’ Damian thought to himself but said, “Jason tells you everything?”

                “Indeed. Though there are somethings he does not need to tell me for I to know,” again Alfred’s eyes crinkled and Damian felt panic setting in. Too many people were finding out about his feelings for Drake. People needed to stop finding out. They needed to keep on thinking he hated the other man.

                Damian gave Alfred a wary look. “So you know about…”

                “Know about what, Master Damian?”

                There was silent for a few moments while the butler and the ward exchanged knowing looks.

                “Nothing. Never mind,” Damian backtracked for he really didn’t want to get into a touchy-feely conversation with Alfred, let alone at all. Alfred wasn’t even supposed to know about his feelings anyway. Maybe if he played the situation off he could place enough of a seed of doubt in the butler’s mind to derail any of the old man’s thoughts about him and Tim. “You were saying how you could confirm Grayson and Todd’s suspicions of what is ailing Drake.”

                “Was I doing that? I suppose I was. Your brother is not ail in the sense of having the flue or a cold. I am afraid his situation is much more severe. Dr. Thompkins has diagnosed him with anorexia nervosa. Though he doesn’t quite have all the symptoms related to it, she believes the eating disorder he is dealing with is very much a form of anorexia.”

                “What symptoms does he not have?” Damian was already running through the list of symptoms related to anorexia nervosa in his mind.

  * _Inadequate food intake_
  * _Extreme and unhealthy weight loss_
  * _Self-esteem related to body image_
  * _Inability to recognize the severity of the situation_
  * _Sometimes binge eating_
  * _Sometimes purging_



“The main one is that he does not seem to be avoiding food to prevent weight gain. His avoidance seems more unintentional. Almost as if his stomach has forgotten how important nutrients are.”

“Interesting.”

“Indeed.”

“And the notebook?”

“It’s a first attempt at a solution. However, even Dr. Thompkins knowns that it will not solve the problem permanently. I am afraid that Timothy has been rather reluctant to give up the source his anorexia sprang from. Without that source, we can cure nothing.”

Damian cast a glace back at Tim, who had curled up into a ball on his side. With his face away from the conversing duo, and buried in his pillow, all Damian could see was inky black hair. He swallowed hard as he thought about the harm that could befall the other bird if his eating disorder was not addressed properly.

“Perhaps there is someone who can get the source from him,” Damian’s voice was weak even to his own ears and he wanted to slap himself for showing such a flaw in front Alfred.

“Perhaps there is,” Alfred agreed. “Whoever they are will need to be careful when trying to extract such information, for Timothy is in a delicate state. One wrong more and it is possible he could shatter.”

Damian took Alfred’s words for the warning they were and nodded his understanding. “I’m sure that person will show the utmost care when handling, Timothy. Drake. I meant Drake.”

“Of course, you did, Master Damian. Why would you ever refer to your _brother_ by anything but his surname? Now, come now. We should let him rest and I fear our continual talking here might rouse him from sleep. Heaven knows that is a precious resource he gets very little of these days.”

“Yes, you are right and I suppose I could go for a cup of tea right now.”

“Already anticipated. As soon as your brothers called to tell me you were on your way from their apartment I started a pot.”

“Really? They called to tell you I was on my way here? You know, father might not be the only one who believes me to be younger than I am.”

“Dick is to you as Jason is to Tim. Therefore, they are to both of you as I am to Bruce.”

“Meaning I am doomed to forever be shadowed by them.”

“They will never stop keeping an eye on you,” Alfred confirmed as he closed the door to Tim’s room behind them.


	21. Chocolate Cake Conversations

_“Tim! Where are you?”_

_Tim flinched as his boyfriend’s voice could be heard hollering from the end of the hall. He made a split-second decision to abandon his work at the kitchen table to rush to his room in hopes of avoiding the other man. The stronger hero knew the shorter too well, though, and intercepted him at his bedroom door._

_“Connor!” Tim forced a smile on his face and spread his arms welcomingly. “Hey, babe. Look, I know what you’re going to say, but I had a good reason for…”_

_“For standing me up? Again?!” Connor growled. The superman clone had his fists clenched at his sides. “This is the fifth time this month, Tim. The fifth time! I even went the extra mile tonight to get us reservations at that fancy Italian place you like.”_

_Tim was taken back. Connor had never gotten them reservations anywhere. Normally when they went out they just went to diners or the movies. They were pretty low key and never did anything too fancy or exotic. The one time they’d tried something a bit more energetic it’d gotten interrupted by a giant robot rampaging through Chicago. Yeah, that had been such a great date. They went from dancing under neon colored lights to kicking a metal ass in no time flat, and the worst part? They’d been too exhausted when they got home to do anything but go their separate ways and crash on their own, respected beds._

_With their dating history, why would Connor have even thought to get them reservations? The clone hadn’t even mentioned the reservations to Tim earlier that week when he said he wanted to go out on Friday. He’d just said to meet by their favorite hot dog stand by the movie theater. Of course, Tim had full intention of doing just that. He’d even set a reminder on his watch and cell phone, but when they’d gone off he’d reasoned that he could afford five more minutes of work. Two hours later and he was standing in front of an angry super clone knowing that he’d once again accidently stood his boyfriend up._

_“I get that your work is important to you. I get that you’re a busy guy and I try to be understanding. I didn’t complain when you couldn’t come to my last football game because you had to go help your dad in Gotham, or when you ditched having dinner with my dads and I because there was a break out at Arkham, or the time you ran out on me at the amusement park because you forgot you had an important paper to write for a college class, oh and I didn’t even complain when you and I were in the middle of having sex and you suddenly got up and ran off because you forgot about a meeting you had at Wayne enterprises. No, I’ve never complained. I’ve always tried to support you. Even with your recent case, but today? You had to stand me up today?”_

_“I’m sorry.” Tim held his hands up in a gesture of peace. “It was an accident. I’ll remake the reservations. I’m sure I can pull a few strings and we can get a table for tomorrow.”_

_“That’s not the point. I don’t care about the reservations. I care that you couldn’t spend one god damn hour with me on our anniversary.”_

_Tim took a step back. Connor had to be wrong. It wasn’t their anniversary. Was it? Wait, what was the date? Shit. It was there anniversary._

_“Connor…” Tim reached out a hand to touch his boyfriend but Connor stepped out of reach with a shake of his head._

_“Don’t, Tim.”_

_“But, I…”_

_“Don’t!” Connor growled. “You know what, I’ve got a project to work on with my friend from school.”_

_“Wait! I’m sorry! Just give me thirty minutes,” Tim pleaded, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the anger on his boyfriend’s face “and I’ll cook us up a nice romantic dinner. We can eat it by candle light and then afterwards, maybe we could lay on the roof and watch the stars for a bit.”_

Tim felt a wetness covering his cheeks and reached up to wipe it away. His entire right side of his face was wet. What was going on? He opened his eyes and found himself staring at his closed bedroom window. He was laying on his side, his face buried in his now wet pillow. There were tears leaking from his eyes and he reached up to wipe them as he sat up. It was dark in his room, except for the red blinking light of his smoke detector. His alarm clock declared the hour to be four in the morning and he briefly wondered how he’d gotten into his room.

The last thing he remembered before the dream he’d had was being in Damian’s car. He’d been tired but he hadn’t wanted to fall asleep so near to the younger man. Even though they’d been talking almost regularly through both text and their online dating profiles, being physically close to Damian still didn’t sit well with him. What did Damian do to him while he was sleeping?

Unconsciously he ran a hand over his face again. He hoped the boy hadn’t written anything on him in Sharpie. At least he was alive and in one piece, or so it seemed. So, there was that good news. Plus, he’d woken up before he could get to the part of his dream where Connor would sit looking like a kicked puppy at the Titan’s kitchen table while he, himself, once again fled their date.

Fuck, he’d screwed up so bad with Connor. It’s no wonder he’d dumped him.

Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, Tim rubbed his hands over his face for a moment before standing. His bare feet sunk into the plush carpet of his room and he only tripped over his scattered laundry twice on his way to the door.

The third bird left his room with only the intention of getting a glass of water from the kitchen. His throat was raw, like he’d been screaming or had his mouth open all night, and he hoped that a cool glass of water would help sooth it’s ache. Of course, what he hadn’t intended to do was to walk into the kitchen and find the room already lit.

Damian sat at the breakfast nook with his laptop in front of him and a textbook laying open off to the side. A round white dessert plate sat close to the edge of the table. Its pristine surface held a perfectly cut, triangular piece of chocolate cake and a fork.

Tim paused in the kitchen doorway as he considered whether he should leave Damian be and forget the glass of water he’d come down for, but he reasoned with himself that he had the rite to get a drink. Damian couldn’t possibly get mad at him about it…could he?

“Hello, Timothy,” jade eyes landed on Tim as their owner leaned back so he was as far away from his laptop as he could get without changing seats.

“Um, hi,” Tim’s reply was weak and more whispered than said. He remained in the doorway for a few seconds longer before hesitantly taking a step into the kitchen.

“Couldn’t sleep?” the younger man inquired as he watched Tim retrieve a glass from the cupboards above the sink.

Tim shook his head but otherwise didn’t reply and Damian didn’t say anything else until the shorter man, with glass of water in hand, went to leave the kitchen.

“Wait,” Damian’s voice seemed almost too loud in the otherwise quiet kitchen, causing Tim’s steps to falter. “I have been working on this assignment for the past couple of hours. It is the only one I did not finish before coming home and I was hoping to have it turned in online by morning. I would apricate having company while I work on it. That is, if you are not too tired. You did seem rather exhausted earlier.”

For a moment, all the two did was stare at each other. Tim’s blue eyes searched Damian’s jade ones as both considered the possible things Tim could say in that moment. Damian shifted in his seat and grabbed his fork in nervousness. He twirled the silver utensil around his fingers for a moment before getting up to retrieve a second one.

“I feel like I’m always tired these days,” Tim spoke up, softly, after what felt like forever. He still hadn’t moved from where he’d paused by the door, but Damian considered his words to be a win.

“Come,” Damian took hold of Tim’s hand and guided him to the nook, where he urged the shorter male to slide into the seat beside where he’d been sitting.

Tim wasn’t quite sure why he was readily following Damian’s gentle urging but there was something soothing about the kitchen atmosphere and he wanted to bask in it a while longer. As Damian retook his seat beside Tim and their arms touched the third bird could have sworn he felt a shock. Not the kind of shock you would get if you tried to hug an electric fence but the kind you get from a doorknob after walking across the carpet in socks. There was something distinctly more thrilling about the shock he’d received from Damian, though. No door knob’s shock had ever felt like it’d stolen his breath.

“Here,” Damian passed the extra fork he’d gotten to Tim and placed the chocolate cake between them, “share this with me. Pennyworth cuts the slices too big and if I eat it all by myself then I’ll be up all night.”

“The night is almost over anyway,” Tim mumbled with his gaze focused on the fork Damian had laid near him.

The younger man shrugged. “Perhaps, but if you are constantly tired than a little sugar might do you good. Come on. The frosting is very rich and creamy.”

Damian took a bite of the cake and Tim picked up his fork.

Tim’s stomach churned as he reached for the cake and slowly slide his fork through it until he had the smallest of bites impelled on its tongs. He tried to ignore the way Damian’s eyes didn’t leave him as he raised the fork to his mouth and slid the small bite past his lips.

“Mmm,” Tim hummed as chocolate hit his tongue. His stomach lurched but he fought down the gag that threatened to escape him. Damian was the only person in their family that wasn’t treating him like he was a porcelain doll. He wanted to keep it that way. Even if it meant having to pretend that eating wasn’t making him physically ill.

“Good, right?” Damian’s smile set off a flock of butterflies inside Tim. The older man didn’t know if he was going to vomit from the cake or squirm like a school girl. On one hand, the thought of taking another bite of the chocolatey dessert made him want to flee the kitchen. On the other, he wanted to see Damian smile at him like that again. He’d never seen that smile on the other man before. Normally when Damian smiled at him it was a sneer or a sickly sweet one given in a sarcastic manner. The one he gave him at the table that night, however, was genuine. It made Tim feel like he’d made Damian proud, like he was something special, some kind of rare jewel, and he wanted to keep feeling that way. He hadn’t felt that way since…

_“You honestly don’t give a fuck about us anymore, do you?” Connor had yelled at him._

Tim bowed his head, his fork poking at the cake.

“Timothy?” a calloused hand was placed atop his. The fingers griped his, stopping his unconscious murder of the slice of chocolate cake. Another hand came up to gently rest its fingers on Tim’s chin and the shorter man found his head being turned and tilted back up.

There were wrinkles on Damian’s brow and that smile he’d worn only a second ago was gone. Replaced by a scowl. Tim wanted to wipe that look away. To bring that smile back. So, he shook himself out of his thoughts and forced a laugh up from his throat.

“Chill, Dames,” Tim brushed Damian’s hand from his chin and made a show of taking a purposeful bite of cake.

“Are you alright?” Damian’s facial expression didn’t change, much to Tim’s dismay. “You looked pained for a moment.”

“I’m fine. Just unwanted memories. You know how it is. You go through the stuff we do and sometimes things just pop up out of nowhere, at the worst possible times.”

“I suppose so,” Damian pretended to buy Tim’s lie. “However, if there is something you need to talk about, I am willing to listen.”

“You,” Tim pointed his fork at Damian and wondered when he’d put another bite of cake on it, “have an assignment to do. What’s it about anyway?”

Before Damian could answer, Tim was grabbing the textbook and examining the page it was open to. “Is this for Dr. Matthews?”

Damian nodded. “Yes.”

“I think I remember this assignment. You’re supposed to be writing a paper over a business of your choosing, correct?”

Again, Damian nodded.

“Did you choose Wayne? Because I think choosing your own company counts as cheating,” there was  a teasing smile toying with Tim’s lips and Damian found his gaze drawn to it.

“No,” Damian licked his lips. “I chose Luthor Corp.”

Tim went ridged.

_“Even my dad, who’s set on taking over the world and runs his own company, makes time for my pa. I don’t see why it’s so hard for you to do the same for me!”_

“Luthor Corp?” Tim swallowed hard. Suddenly that churning in his stomach was back and he was placing his fork down on the dessert plate.

“Yes. Like you said, choosing father’s company would be cheating. I am almost done with the assignment anyway. I only need to tie up a few strings in the conclusion and then make sure my work cited page is in the proper format. Then I can upload it to the class site,” Damian informed. “So, I have some time, if you want to talk.”

“No, uh, let’s…” Tim swallowed hard again and pushed the dessert plate closer to Damian. “Let’s get your assignment done. Why is the conclusion taking you so long to finish?”

“I can’t seem to get the wording right,” Damian spoke calmly but his eyes were running all over Tim. The other man’s demeanor had shifted into a darker state. He’d straightened his shoulders, his posture had become more rigid, and his eyes darkened like storm clouds. Damian wanted to address why such a change had happened but he couldn’t without completely shutting Tim down. The shorter man was already in red alert mode. If Damian did something, anything, that he perceived as a threat he would go into lock down and then Damian would be back at square one with Tim. And that was something Damian very much didn’t want to happen. Even more so than he didn’t want their father to find out about the feelings he housed for Tim.

“Here, let me read?”

“Sure,” Damian turned his computer towards Tim, who read over the final paragraph on the screen and made a few adjustments before turning it back to Damian.

“Try that.”

Damian read over the paragraph and grinned. “That sounds wonderful. Excellent job, Timothy. Though, are you sure this does not classify as cheating?”

“All I did was flip-flop two of your sentences and change a couple words. I think you’re good,” Tim smirked. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“Not with the paper, no,” Damian saved his work and closed the laptop. He’d check the last page and submit it later. Right now he wanted to pay attention to Tim. “But you could help me finish this piece of cake.”

Tim felt the dessert plate nudge his arm and looked down to see Damian pushing it into him. Damian smiled as he took a bite out of the cake and there were those damn butterflies again. Tim couldn’t fight the small smile that caused the corners of his lips to twitch as he too took a bite of the cake.

“God, Pennyworth is a culinary genius,” Damian purposely moaned around the cake in his mouth. “Don’t you think so?”

“Of course,” Tim agreed. “No one knows how to cook better than Alfred. Well, maybe Jason, but Alfred taught him everything he knows so it’s still basically Alfred cooking.”

“I should have Pennyworth teach me how to make a few things,” Damian stated. “I’m not hopeless in the kitchen but nothing I make ever turns out as good his creations.”

“He’s taught me a few things. I can make my favorite desserts and a couple easy meals. Oh, and one three course meal. Believe it or not, before you came along, Alfred insisted on teaching all of us Robins how to host a formal dinner.”

“Really? I wonder why he never taught me.”

“Probably because he figured you already knew. No offense, and please don’t kill me over this, but when you first got here you were a pretentious brat.”

Damian flinched. “I’ve been told. I have been working on bettering myself.”

“I know. That time you spent as Dick’s Robin really helped you.”

“He’s not the only one that’s affected me,” Damian stated and Tim found the younger man’s hand resting atop his own.

Heat flooded Tim’s cheeks and he pulled his hand away from Damian’s.

“Y-yeah. Of course. I mean…of course other people would have affected you too. I w-was just…Oh, look at the time! It’s really, really late. Or really, really early. However, you want to look at it. Ha. Anyway, I should be, uh getting back to bed. Thanks, uh, for the cake,” Tim rambled as he slid around the breakfast nook and backed up towards the door.

“Wait, you don’t have to go,” Damian tried to bring the other man back but Tim was shaking his head and darting from the kitchen.

 _‘Well, fuck,’_ Damian thought. _‘Maybe the hand thing was a bit much. Remember, you’re supposed to be being careful._ ’

Upstairs, Tim shut the door of his bedroom and leaned against it.

“What the hell was that?” Tim spoke aloud to his dark room. “Brush it off, Drake. Brush it off. Damian didn’t know what he was doing. He was probably just trying to be nice, not actually hold your hand. Why would he hold your hand? There’s no reason he should.”

As he crawled back into bed and pulled the covers back up, Tim tried to focus on steadying his breathing. Now that he was back in his room, away from Damian, his stomach was gurgling in its fight against the cake he had consumed.

“And why did you eat so much cake,” Tim asked himself as he curled up in a ball and clutched his stomach.

Silently, in the depths of Tim’s mind, a little voice answered him back. “Because Damian wanted you to.”


	22. A Brother's Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason knows Damian isn't the best at listening to other people's advice, but he has to try, because he doesn't want Damian to break while trying to fix Tim.

Alfred’s wakeup call came too early for Tim, who had only fallen asleep a few hours before. He borrowed his face in his pillow as the curtains of his room were pushed open by the white gloved hands of the family’s beloved butler.

“The sun has risen, Master Timothy, and so should you,” Alfred spoke and Tim tried to pretend he didn’t notice the look of disgust the butler gave to a pile of dirty clothes by the window. His Red Robin suit was strung across his room but he knew that the cowl was somewhere in the scrunched-up fabric at Alfred’s feet. “It is good to see you sleeping and I would be willing to let you remain that way, but your father has requested your presence in the dining room.”

“Nuugh,” Tim’s response was undignified.

“Up, Timothy.” With one quick flick of his wrist, Alfred pulled the covers off Tim, who immediately curled up into a ball and pulled a pillow over his head. “At this rate, your breakfast will be cold before you reach the table.”

When Tim didn’t immediately respond the older man firmly folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at his fourth ward. Salt and pepper brows were drawn down and a crisp, stern voice met the young bird’s ears. “Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you _will_ rise this instant and you _will_ join your family for breakfast.

“I’m not hungry,” Tim grumbled while blindly reaching around his bed in hopes of finding the blanket Alfred had so rudely stolen from him.

“That is alright,” Tim stiffened as a new voice came from his bedroom door. He peeked out from under his pillow to confirm that the owner of that voice was indeed who he thought it was.

Damian, dressed in only a pair of black sweats, was leaning against Tim’s doorframe. His long tan arms were folded neatly across his chest and he wore that smug sort of smirk that would have made Tim want to punch him the face a year ago. Now, however, the older bird found himself giving a weak smile of his own in return.

“Neither am I hungry, just yet. Perhaps, Pennyworth, you would allow Timothy and I to skip this meal in favor of partaking in a mid-morning snack later. We will even let you choose what we consume,” Damian suggested. “This way, father can leave for work and is not hindered by our tardiness to the breakfast table.”

“Hmm,” Alfred hummed. “I suppose I could agree. However, both you and Timothy must swear to indulge me by eating the snack I prepare for you at 10:00 sharp.”

“I think we can agree to that,” Damian stated. “What do you think, Timothy?”

Tim pulled the pillow from his face and sat up so his covers slid down his body, revealing his naked torso. Resting his upper weight on his hands, he nodded. “10:00.”

“And you will eat it in my presence?” Alfred insisted and Tim knew it was so the butler could later list and sign the snack in Tim’s notebook.

“Yes,” Tim agreed.

“Of course,” Damian also replied.

“Very well, then,” Alfred spoke on his way out of the room. “I will expect to see you down stairs and at the table in four hours.”

Damian waited until Alfred was sure to be a good distance away from Tim’s room before he closed the door and took a step closer to where Tim still sat on the bed. Visibly, the shorter male shied away from him and it caused a falter in Damian’s steps.

“You must be annoyed with father and Pennyworth. I have hardly been home for half a day and I can already see why you would be struggling here. If I had known things were this bad, I would have come home that night you first text me,” Damian stated, hoping to ease some of the other man’s tension.

“They’re not so bad,” Tim mumbled and Damian frowned as he realizes he didn’t like how Tim’s blue eyes were having a staring contest with his bedsheets. “They’re just trying to help.”

“You do not sound like you believe what you are saying,” Damian commented.

A small, barely there smile caused the left corner of Tim’s mouth to twitch. “Their Dr. Thompkins’s words. She and Bruce feel that the way they’ve chosen to handle my…” Tim paused and his lips twisted into a scowl as he thought of what word he wanted to use. “…my situation is the best possible.”

“But it’s not what you feel.”

Tim shook his head.

“What _do_ you feel?” Damian slowly sat down on the edge of Tim’s bed, making sure the other man had plenty of time to protest if he didn’t want Damian there.

“What. Do. I. Feel.” Tim annunciated each word so slowly that it was almost as if he were taking the time to individually dissect each word. “I feel…”

Hurt flashed in Tim’s eyes, his brow twisting and his lips parting, as he picked at a loose thread of his sheets. Damian felt something pierce his heart when he saw that look. His fingers twitched as they itched to reach out and comfort the man in front of him. He didn’t know what thoughts had crossed Tim’s mind that had caused such a sudden surge of pain, but he wanted nothing more than to protect him from them. He ached to reassure the other man that everything was okay and that whatever had pained him would not do so again, but Damian wasn’t quite sure that such words wouldn’t be empty promises. Likewise, after Tim’s reaction to Damian having attempted to hold his hand the night before, the younger Wayne wasn’t so sure his comfort would be wanted.

“I feel frustrated,” Tim’s head suddenly snapped up and there was a new emotion present in those blue eyes. Anger, irritation, frustration…it was a white-hot force that Tim had pulled forth to block the pain that’d befallen him. After all, he couldn’t do anything about that pain. It had already been inflicted on him and until he could learn to live with it he would combat it the best way he knew how. By distracting himself. “Bruce hasn’t let me work on my case in nearly two weeks. Tabby’s boss called wo nights ago and said that if she doesn’t get her ass back into work soon then she’s out of a job. The sick card isn’t working anymore. A stomach bug doesn’t last this long without there being something seriously wrong. If Bruce doesn’t let me return to my case soon, I’m going to lose any chance I had at cracking it.”

Damian paused at Tim’s outburst and contemplated how he wanted to continue their conversation. He three options in front of him. He could show support to their father’s decision and risk riling Timothy up even more, he could support Tim and down play the seriousness of the real situation at hand, or he could play devil’s advocate and try to work both sides of the coin.

“I wonder if father was intending on keeping you off the case until next week, when I was originally supposed to return for Thanksgiving break,” Damian settled on saying. “He did mention to me that he wanted my help on your case. More so than the basic data I’ve been providing him and our brothers with.”

“Yeah, he seems to think that with you we can solve the case in a week.” Tim didn’t even bother trying to hide the implied eye roll in his words. It was no secret that he thought Bruce to believe that Damian was more capable than he was.

“You don’t.”

“I think I’ve been working on this case for half a year and that I deserve to be the one to decide how it’s being handled. Yet, since I’ve been back in Gotham, Bruce has been the one calling the shots.”

Damian once again paused to consider his next words. “I will speak to father. While I attempt to convince him to allow you back on the case, do you happen to have any recent reports from it that I could read over? I have checked the shared database but you have not uploaded much in recent months and, if I am to help, I feel that it would be better that I am informed on what you have accomplished up until now.”

Tim blinked a couple of times. “Are you offering to help because your dad wants you to, or because you genuinely want to? Because I don’t need you screwing this up for me just because you don’t want to be there.”

The youngest robin winced as he recalled the various times he’d purposely sabotaged Tim’s cases because he hadn’t wanted to help with them. He’d been such a spoiled brat back then, unable to see past his own wants and wishes, that he hadn’t realized how such actions would affect his future. Specifically, how’d they’d effect his relationships.

“I want to help,” Damian stated firmly and hoped Tim would believe him.

The shorter male stared at his younger companion for a moment as his eyes took in every detail of his face. Damian knew that Tim was searching for something that would tell him that the former assassin was lying. He must not have found anything, however, for he eventually said, “You really do want to help. Don’t you?”

Damian gave a nod in response. “I do.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about this,” Tim admitted. “There’s something creepy about you wanting to help me, but I’ll send you my reports. Along with detailed profiles for my alter-ego and my suspects.”

“Good. I would like any data you are willing to share and I promise not to propose a plan to father concerning your case unless I speak to you first about said plan.”

Tim scoffed. “Your father already has a plan. Before he put me on house arrest he said something about having an idea of how to proceed, but that we would need your help.”

“I will do my best to discover plan he has and to relay it to you. Rest assure, I will not agree to any plan for action if you do not approve of it first. This is your case and I will follow your lead on it.”

Tim raised a brow. “Yeah, sure.”

The duo suddenly found themselves plunged into an awkward silence as Damian remained seated on Tim’s bed and Tim pulled his knees up to his chest. Neither one said anything for the longest time and Damian was trying to remember all the different things he’d heard Grayson say to avoid prolonged silence.

“Did you get your paper finished?” It was Tim that eventually broke the quietness of the room and Damian silently thanked him. He wasn’t any good at small talk, but he also hadn’t wanted to leave Tim’s presence just yet.

“I did,” Damian replied with a smile. “Thank you for your help with it.”

“It was nothing,” Tim stated. “You should let me know what grade you get though. I bet you ace it.”

“There is no doubt that I will pass with a high A,” Damian scoffed. “When have I ever not excelled at something I have made up my mind to do?”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Besides, I have to show you up,” Damian grinned. “I’ve been keeping track. I Only have four more over all 100’s to obtain before I catch up to you.”

“Seriously?” Tim’s smile caused Damian’s heart to clench. “You’ve been keeping track of how many classes we’ve both passed? Oh my God.”

“You knew I was competitive,” Damian remarked, but his own smile did not leave his face as Tim laughed.

“Yeah, but I never thought you’d be keeping a list of our grades. Guess I should have. We have any other competitions going on I should know about? Should I go back to school for another degree, just to show you up?”

“You could try, but you wouldn’t succeed.”

“I don’t know. You _did_ ask for my help on a paper. That has to mean you admit that I am a little better than you in academics.”

“I admit no such thing,” Damian remarked with a chuckle while thinking, _I only asked for your help so you would sit with me for a while._

“Whatever,” Tim tossed his pillow at Damian, who caught it before it could make contact with his face.

“Do my ears deceive me? Are you two actually getting along?” Jason’s teasing voice came from the doorway and both Damian and Tim turned to find him smirking at them. What a sight they must have been to the older man. Sitting on Tim’s bed, laughing and joking about their rivalry.

“Todd,” Damian greeted, somewhat annoyed that his time with Tim had been interrupted.

“Hey, demon spawn,” Jason grinned. “Hey, Timmy.”

“Hey, Jay,” Tim stood and gave Jason a one-armed hug. “When’d you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago. Goldie was whining that he wanted some of Alfred’s chocolate chip cookies and coerced Colin into helping him annoy me until I relented to come with them. Annoying assholes,” Jason responded.

“I hardly doubt there are any fresh cookies,” Damian remarked. “It is still early. Surly they realized that breakfast has just been had.”

“Oh, they do,” Jason stated, “but they don’t care. Besides, Alfred always has cookies. He’s like the cookie fairy or something. One minute there’s nothing in the oven and the next, poof, there’s a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies sitting on the table.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Tim agreed. “I don’t think there hasn’t been a time where I wanted a cookie that Alfred hadn’t already made some. It must be his superpower.”

“Nah, his superpower is dealing with all of us,” Jason laughed. “Anyway, I came up here to see if you wanted to go outside and toss around the old pigskin.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tim was quick to rush to his dresser. “Just let me change into something warm first.”

“Cool. Meet you out back. Come on baby bat,” Jason nodded for Damian to follow him out of the room and, reluctantly, Damian did. As they were walking down the hall, towards Damian’s room and away from the stairs they should be taking if Jason wanted to go outside, Jason nudged his younger brother in the side. “So?”

“So, what?” Damian moved further away from Todd so he couldn’t elbow him again.

“How’d the drive go last night? You and Tim talk about anything good?”

“If you are asking if I have told him about my feelings then I’m afraid the answer will disappoint you, though it shouldn’t as I have not even been home for a full day yet.”

“So, what? You could have told him.”

“I’m starting to regret having even told you,” Damian informed. “Why are you even asking?”

Jason shrugged. “You two looked pretty happy when I opened Tim’s door. I thought maybe you’d had a nice long talk and worked a few things out.”

“It’s going to take more than a talk to fix us,” a frown tugged on Damian’s mouth.

“Well, yeah, but it’s as good a place to start as any.”

“I can’t have a conversation like that with him right now.”

“Why not?”

“You’ve seen him. He’s in a fragile state and I need to focus on getting him better first.”

“Notice how you said that _you_ need to focus on getting him better.”

Damian sighed. “Stop it, Todd.”

“Why? Because you don’t want to hear what I have to say or because you want to pretend that it’s not true? Come on! You may have just got into town last night, but you saw the notebook and Alfred told me that you helped Tim skip breakfast this morning. You know just as damn well as I do that Tim doesn’t want to get better. He’s only doing the notebook because Bruce threatened to send him to a hospital if he didn’t.”

“As has been stated more than once now, I just returned home last night. I have had no time to make any real progress with him yet, but I will.”

“You can’t fix him if he’s not willing to be fixed.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Damian’s voice was low, like a warning. “He’s not a broken gadget.”

“No, he’s a broken spirit. That’s much worse. And I don’t want to see you break trying to fix him. Look, the reason why I asked about you and him is because I was up all night thinking about the two of you and I’m honestly worried that you’re crusade to heal him will end up leaving you in shambles. Sometimes we love someone once so much that we let our love for them blind us. You can’t let him skip meals like you did this morning. That only encourages his idea that there is nothing wrong with him.”

“And what would you know about healing someone you love? Dick has never gone through anything like Tim is and you’ve never had to spend your days knowing that he thinks himself expendable.”

“You’re right, _I_ haven’t, but maybe you should talk to Dick. He dated Roy before he dated me and, back then, Harper wasn’t as clean as he is now. Dick went through a lot of shit trying to _heal_ Roy and, for a while, all that happened was that Dick kept getting cut on Roy’s broken pieces.”

“While your concern is noted is also unneeded,” Damian remarked crisply as they reached his room. “And we are done discussing this.”

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t try to help you.”

“I wouldn’t call our conversation helping,” was Damian’s last remark before he shut the door to his room and left Todd standing in the hallway. He figured Jason _was_ trying to help, in his own weird way, but he really hadn’t needed to be reminded of how dire Tim’s situation was. He wasn’t blind, he could see how ill Tim had become and he knew that helping Tim get out of breakfast probably hadn’t been the smartest move, but he also hoped that if he could show a little support for Tim, and let him know that he was on his side, then Tim might be more willing to help Damian heal him. He wouldn’t get cut on Tim’s shards. He knew what he was doing…he hoped.


	23. The View from his Bedroom Window

“Timmy! Go long!”

Damian stood in his bedroom, staring out his window at who were supposed to be his two brothers. Jason and Tim had been tossing a football around for almost an hour and Damian was finding himself getting increasingly jealous of the older red bird. When he’d suggested that Timothy be allowed to skip breakfast, he had hoped that it would give him and Tim some time alone. He’d wanted to find a nice place in the library and spend the next few hours going over Tim’s case notes. The weather was getting chilly and he’d planned on starting a fire in the library fireplace. Maybe he’d sneak up some of the cake from the fridge and he and Tim could share another piece while discussing the case. Then Todd had shown up and ruined his plans.

Okay, if he was being honest with himself he’d have to admit that Todd’s presence hadn’t irritated him much at first. He’d been annoyed a little, but he’d considered adjusting his plans and going outside to join them when Jason had first suggested football to the middle bird. Then Jason had confronted him the hallway and all thoughts of joining the two had fled from his mind. He didn’t want to be around Jason right then, no matter how childish that seemed. However, as he’d sat at his desk, attempting to draw a picture of the Gotham skyline from memory, he’d been distracted by the melodic sound of Timothy’s laughter.

The beautiful chime had drawn Damian to his window, where he’d leaned against the frame as he saw Tim grinning. The older boy’s smile was so large and bright it was hard to look away from. Even as Jason took a football to the face. Which Damian was almost completely sure was on purpose. Todd shouldn’t have missed that catch.

Jason’s reaction to getting hit in the face drew a quip from the other bird and Damian wished he could hear what Tim had said. As it was, with the window closed, Tim’s voice was muffled. Only the louder sounds of his laughter were getting in.

As Tim said something again, which made Jason laugh in return, Damian decided to say to hell with the cold that would undoubtedly seep into his room and opened his window just a crack. The space between the window and the base was just enough to let in the sounds of his brothers, but not enough to be overly noticeable. God, he felt like a stalker. Watching Tim play with Jason while brooding silently in his room, all the while keeping an ear on their conversation. If Colin could see him now, oh the words he would say.

“You know, you could just go out and join them instead of lurking up here like some kind of ghost.”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Damian smirked as he turned his head just slightly enough that he could see Colin out of the corner of his eye.

“I thought you were down stairs, pestering Pennyworth with Grayson,” Damian stated.

“I was, but then Alfred threatened to assault us with a frying pan. Instead of risking my life like Dick is, I figured I’d come find you. Thought you’d be with Tim though. Not up here, by yourself,” Colin remarked as he moved to stand by Damian. He too was now looking out the window and chuckled when Jason tried to nail Tim in the face with the football, no doubt in retaliation, but Tim expertly caught the brown skinned ball.

“They look like they’re having fun,” Colin spoke up after a few seconds. “You should go join them.”

“I doubt they’d want me out there,” Damian stated. “I am not the best person to play games with.”

“You do get pretty competitive,” Colin agreed, “but it’s just catch. What’s the worse that could happen?”

“I could say the wrong thing, at the wrong time, and end up insult Timothy. Or Todd.”

“I know you’re on this crusade to be nicer, but your quips are part of who you are. You’ve got a lot of whit and it’d be a shame to hide it all just because you want to be some perfect guy.”

“I don’t want to be perfect,” Damian rolled his eyes and turned his back on the window. Silently, he added ‘ _I just want to be good enough.’_

Another laugh joined the two already outside and Damian didn’t need to turn back around to know whose it was. “Grayson.”

“Looks like this two-way game has turned into a three-way,” Colin grinned. “Think I’ll join them. I bet there’s room for five people, if you change your mind.”

“Tt,” Damian scoffed as Colin left his room and he turned back to the window.

Jason was saying something and then Tim was looking up and his eyes met Damian’s. The younger man was quick to turn away again and pretend that he didn’t notice the red bird. He tried sitting at his desk an drawing for a while longer but his mind was just too distracted. Especially now that he could clearly hear Colin laughing along with his brothers. Part of him wanted to go out and join them, like Colin had suggested, but a little voice reminded him that every time he’d tried to do something like that in the past he’d instantly killed the joyful mood that’d been present before his arrival.

Like the time he’d tried to join in on a game night with his brothers. They’d all been seated at the breakfast nook, playing Clue and laughing. He’d heard them from where he’d been reading in the main sitting room and had thought to join them. As soon as he’d walking into the kitchen, however, all laughter died. Grayson had been the only one to keep smiling.

_“Hey, baby bat, want to join us?” Grayson said._

Todd had groaned while Tim scowled. Damian had gotten the point immediately that he wasn’t wanted, so he’d made a snide remark about the foolishness of their game and left with a demand that they be quieter so he could read. The same would surly occur again if he was to go outside that morning, and he didn’t want to ruin Tim’s fun. After all, the other boy was smiling and laughing, and Damian wanted him to stay that way.

With a sigh, Damian gave up on drawing and carefully placed the pencil he’d been using back in its plastic holder. His chair didn’t make a sound as he pushed it away from his desk so he could leave his room. The sound of his brothers’ and friend’s laughter was cut off as soon as he shut his bedroom door behind him. He had no real destination in mind when he’d left his room, but he knew he couldn’t stay in there. Thus he found himself wandering through the manor halls until he eventually ended up in the kitchen.

Simmering herbs, vegetables, and a creamy mushroom sauce filled the air and Damian found himself breathing in a big whiff of it as he entered the kitchen.

“Whatever you are cooking smells delightful, Pennyworth,” the youngest Wayne remarked.

Alfred, who was bent over the island, pen in hand, offered the boy a smile and a,” Thank you, Master Damian. I am preparing chicken and mushroom sauce for lunch. Along with some pasta for you to put your sauce on.”

“I apricate that,” Damian took a seat at one of the barstools pushed up against the island.

Alfred’s sleeves had been rolled up and the apron he wore had spots of flour on it. A mug, reading ‘World’s best grandfather’ sat near him, steaming with the coffee it held. A recipe book and a pad of paper also lay in front of the butler and Damian took note that the book had been opened to a green bean casserole while there were a list of ingredients written on the notepad. Alfred twirled the pen in his hand for a moment before speaking up again.

“I am glad you decided to grace me with your presence,” The butler said. “I have been planning the Thanksgiving meal and I am unsure of what you would like to eat that day, outside of sides we will be having. You need something to fill you up like the turkey will the others.”

“Anything you make will be fine,” Damian informed, as his eye caught sight of Tim’s yellow notebook, residing near the edge of the island.

“Perhaps a tofu patty? Or would you prefer vegetable substitute? I am sure I could craft either into the shape of a turkey leg, if you would like.”

“Hmm,” Damian hummed. “It doesn’t matter. I could probably just eat your green bean casserole and be fine. Along with your scalloped potatoes.”

Alfred chuckled. “I am sure you could be, but it is my job to ensure you get a full meal and potatoes and green beans are not nearly enough for a growing young man.” Alfred added tofu to ingredient list. “I will see what I can come up with for you. Would you like to accompany me to the store after lunch? I have a lot of groceries to get and would be thankful for the assistance.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Damian agreed as he pulled Tim’s notebook over to him and opened it to a blank page. “Can I borrow your pen?”

Alfred gave him a questioning look but then handed the pen over to his youngest ward. He watched, in silence, as Damian wrote down that Tim had eaten half of a piece of chocolate cake the night before and then added his signature to it.

“So that is where that other piece went,” Alfred’s eyes crinkled as he grinned. “I thought your father had stolen it.”

Damian smirked. “I was up late doing a paper for school. I had thought your chocolate cake would help keep me up.”

“Did it?”

“Yes, but the company I had is what truly kept me interested.”

Another chuckled form the butler and, “I feel much better knowing that you got him to eat something last night, since you allowed him to skip breakfast this morning.”

“Yes, sorry about that. Todd has informed me that I should not allow him to do such.”

“Jason is worried,” Alfred remarked. “We all are, but, might I say, that you have yet to be back a full day and you have already accomplished something none of us could?”

“What’s that?”

“You got Timothy to agree to eat something, without much fuss.”

“You mean the cake?”

“I mean the snack I will be preparing for you,” Alfred corrected. “I haven’t seen him fold so easily to the idea of food since he’s returned. That must say something.”

Damian was silent for a moment, staring down at the page he’d written on in Tim’s notebook. “What does it say?”

The elderly man shrugged. “It could say many things. About both you and him. Yet, you two have always had a competitive relationship. If there is one thing Timothy hates, it’s appearing weak in front of you.”

Damian paused as he realized that what Alfred was saying wasn’t a negative statement towards the competitiveness of his and Timothy’s relationship. In the past they had fought hard to out fight each other, to prove that they were a better Robin than the other, and when Dick had taken the Robin name from Tim and handed it to Damian it had nearly forced the other bird out of the family. At the time, Damian had considered Tim’s leaving as a win. He’d though it proof that he’d bested the other boy wonder. He was wrong.

As time went on, Damian learned that it had been Tim who had bested him that night when he’d gained his wings. Damian had been a spoiled brat. Dick had given him the Robin name to help mold him, shape him into a better person. He’d been taken under the wing of the Batman and the Nightwing. He’d been praised and chided and forced to train harder than he thought he needed. He’d been shown his weaknesses, his faults, his own foolishness. He’d even been shown death.

Timothy, however, hadn’t faded away like Damian had thought he would. He’d created a new identity for himself and took off on his own, without the safety net of their family. Where Damian was training harder, Tim was fighting harder. When Damian was being forced down on the mats of the cave sparring area, Tim was taking punches in an alley and pulling bullets out of his own flesh. While Damian was flying under the watchful eyes of Grayson, Tim was losing his spleen -his health and immune system -for the mission.

Tim was stronger than Damian had ever given him credit for and now, here he was being called weak by their family. Nay, not being called weak, being called _broken_ , but Pennyworth was right. Even if Damian and Tim were no longer arguing over the Robin name and they’d stopped their bickering over pointless things -which occurred mostly because the Red Robin tended to steer clear of Robin -that didn’t mean they still weren’t completive against each other. They had always been each other’s greatest opponents. Fighting back and one-upping each other so much that most would think them equals. Perhaps Alfred was on to something and that competitiveness could be used to help the older bird heal.

If Tim didn’t want to appear weak in front of Damian then he would eat as instructed, train as hard as he ever had, and try his damnest to act as healthy as he should be. Except, there was a flaw. Tim’s vulnerability was showing. He’d admitted more to Damian in their texts and online than he should have if he was seriously concerned about how the younger bird viewed him. This worried Damian, for as far he could tell Tim’s openness meant one of two things. Either he genuinely trusted Damian or he’d reached such a low point that he simply didn’t care what anyone thought and was putting his broken pieces on display.


	24. Authors Note

I'm sorry this isn't an update, but I wanted to contact all of you who are reading my stories. I want to say thank you for your continued support with this story and for all your lovely comments. I promise that I am still working on updating it. However, I've been trying to get a book finished that I really want to publish using KDP. It would be my second published work and the first in a trilogy, so I've been spending most of my free time working on it. I'm really sorry for the lack of updates because of this. I haven't forgotten this story and I promise to update as soon as I possibly can. 

Thanks again, 

NightwingsAngel.


	25. Snack Time Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who's still reading this after my long time absence. I'm back! Still working on that trilogy, but I'm back :)

Tim stared up at the window where Damian had been standing moments before. For a brief moment the two had locked eyes when Jason had pointed out that their game was being watched. Tim had intended on waving at the other man, maybe even gesturing for him to join them, but Damian had turned away so quickly that it hadn’t been possible.

“And here I thought _you_ were the voyeur of the family,” Jason joked, which earned him a hard throw of the football from Dick.

“Be nice,” Dick chided.

“It’s creepier when Damian’s doing it,” Jason noted. “At least with you, I didn’t feel like you were plotting to murder me.”

“No, you just thought I was trying to replace you,” Tim rolled his eyes. “Which is _so_ much better.”

Jason smirked and threw the football as hard as he could at Tim, who’d almost missed catching it. At this point they weren’t so much as playing catch as they were trying to see who could nail the other with the ball. It was actually a difficult task, considering their training.

“We all have our issues,” Jason stated in way of explanation.

The patio doors that lead out of the kitchen were pushed open and Colin waved at the birds as he exited the manor. A sweet, herb and spice filled aroma ghosted along behind him on the soft autumn breeze and Tim’s stomach ached at the thought of what it implied. He chanced a glance at the watch Bruce had given him for his eighteenth birthday and noted that he only had an hour left until Alfred would be swooping in and demanding that he partake in the snack he’d agreed to. He had to fight off a groan at that thought.

“You okay there, Tim?” Collin questioned. “You look like you’re about to hurl.”

Tim shook his head and readjusted the ball in his hands before throwing it to Dick. “I’m fine. Did you come to join us?”

“Yeah, Damian’s not being much of a conversationalist today,” the red head stated. “So, I figured I’d see if I could join your game.”

“Of course you can,” Dick beamed and tossed the football to Jason. “The more the merrier.”

“Dickie’s right,” Jason grinned as he passed the ball to Colin in a forceful, but playful, manner. “Could have even brought baby bat with ya.”

“I asked,” Colin admitted. “He acted like it wasn’t a good idea. Despite being Robin, he’s not athletic. I tried to get him to go out for the university’s basketball team and it didn’t end well. I don’t think he likes sports.”

“It’s not that he’s not athletic,” Jason remarked. “He likes working alone. Teams. Groups. Those are words that Damian would erase from his vocabulary if he could.”

“You’re wrong,” Tim surprised himself by coming to Damian’s defense. He spoke with a soft voice as he examined the ball that was once again in his hands, but he felt a burning in his soul that refused to let Damian be talked about in such a way. “He’s learned a lot from working with the family and has come to value the knowledge one can gain from group projects. I think, on some level, he even enjoys working with a team.”

“You’re right!” Dick grinned at Tim with such pride that Tim felt as if he’d just perfectly performed one of Dick’s intricate gymnastic moves. “Dami’s not that little brat he used to be. He’s grown up and he no longer strives to be alone. I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s called me just to talk, because he was lonely. Of course, you know little D. He won’t admit that’s why he called, but it’s absolutely the truth.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Jason snarked. “Ya act like I was picking on the kid. Fuck, I _know_ he’s gotten better. I was just saying…”

“We know, Jay,” Dick placed a comforting hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “We weren’t trying to make you feel bad.”

Colin smirked and teased, “You two are so cute together.”

Dick laughed and placed an overexaggerated kiss on Jason’s mouth. Colin’s face screwed up as Jason pulled back from Dick only for a second before diving back in and pushing his tongue into the shorter bird’s mouth.

“Okay, okay, stop with the tonsil hockey,” Colin whined.

Tim snickered and rolled his eyes.

“It’s not enough that I walked in on you two making out on the kitchen table this morning?” Colin complained.

“Blame Dickhead’s perfect ass,” Jason smirked, which earned him a playful smack from the blue bird.

“And this is where I leave,” Tim stated, handing the football to Colin. “Have fun, Wilkes.”

“Don’t leave me out here with them!” Colin called after the shortest robin, who didn’t even spare him another glance as he opened the patio doors and stepped into the manor kitchen.

“Ah! Master Timothy, you’re early,” Alfred was wiping his hands on a flour sack towel when Tim entered the kitchen. “I have not prepared your snack yet, but I will get right to it.”

“No rush, Alfie,” Tim mumbled and his intention to walk straight through the kitchen was thwarted as he caught sight of Damian sitting on a stool at the island.

“I would like the snack early,” Damian spoke. His attention slid from the notebook in front of him to Tim. “Hope you don’t mind, I’ve stolen a page from your notebook.”

“Um, no that’s fine,” Tim cursed himself for how he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Better rip it out before B checks it tonight.”

“Of course,” Damian stated as if it’d been obvious that he would do so and, Tim supposed, it should have been.

The older bird felt heat flood his cheeks as he realized his mistake and said, “Sorry. I guess you knew that all ready. Huh?”

A dark eyebrow was raised just slightly and for a moment Tim considered continuing on his way through the kitchen. If he found a good hiding place, he wouldn’t have to eat whatever Alfred was bent over preparing for them at the counter and he could possibly sneak in some case time. However, Damian patting the stool next to him with a small smile chased away any thought of escape.

“You look about ready to flee. Come. Sit,” Damian’s instructions were less of a commanded and more of a request with the gentle tone he’d used and Tim found that he wanted to follow them. So, the third boy wonder pulled out the stool next to Damian and took a seat, just as he was instructed to.

Tim sat in silence as Alfred worked at preparing their snack and Damian worked on drawing whatever it was he was drawing. Tim couldn’t really tell what the boy was working on from the way he blocked the picture with his arm as he made short, precise strokes across the lined page with his pen.

“I am surprised you have come back inside so soon,” Damian continued to speak as he drew and Tim stared at him. “I would have thought you would be playing football with our brothers for the rest of the day, or at least until Alfred and I dragged you in here for our snack.”

“Jason was being a jerk,” Tim remarked shortly and with a roll of his eyes.

“Not to you, I hope,” Damian’s pen stilled as he looked up to find Tim now staring down at the island top. The third bird’s eyes were busy following a dark line in that marble top.

“No,” Tim smirked. “Jason stopped being a jerk to me a long time ago. Any remarks he makes these days are just brotherly banter.”

“I see. It wasn’t to Colin then, was it? Because if it was I will not hesitate to kick his ass. Of course, I would not hesitate to do so if he’d been being a jerk to you too. Though, I doubt you’d let me.”

“You’re right there and, no, it wasn’t to Colin either. He and your boy actually get along pretty well. I think they understand each other in a way none of us others do.”

“Similar history,” Damian agreed, “but if Todd wasn’t being a jerk to you or Colin then…Dick?”

“Ha! As if! In case you haven’t noticed, Dick has Jason wrapped around his finger.”

“It has not slipped my notice, but I fail to see who else he could have been being rude to.”

“Damian, just let it go,” Tim sighed. “He wasn’t harming anyone. He was just saying some stuff.”

“About who?”

“Master Damian,” Alfred interrupted and Damian frowned as he saw Tim’s shoulders sag in relief, “perhaps you should heed Timothy’s words. If he says to let the subject drop then there must be a valid reason to do so. Besides, Master Jason is not currently tormenting anyone that we are aware of so the matter should be left alone. If you were to go outside and confront him, no matter who he may have previously been antagonizing, you would only start an argument that could possibly chase both him and Richard away. Would you want that?”

Damian was silent for a moment before saying. “No. I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right,” Alfred slid two plates across the island to his wards. “Now, eat your sandwiches, boys.”

“Peanut butter and Jelly?” Tim asked as he picked up half of the sandwich Alfred had placed in front of him. “Really?”

“Yes, Master Timothy. Is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing. I just expected you to serve us a plate of carrots or something.”

“The thought did cross my mind, but it has always been easier to get you to eat a PB&J sandwich over vegetables,” Alfred remarked. “With that being said, I’ll be needing that notebook back, Master Damian.”

“Huh? Oh, right.” Damian ripped out the page he was drawing on and pushed Tim’s notebook across the island, to the butler. “There you go, Pennyworth.”

“Thank you, Damian.”

“What were you drawing?” Tim asked around a bite of his sandwich while he watched the younger bird gently pick up half of his own snack.

“Nothing important,” was Damian’s remark. “I was planning on going back upstairs to work more on it after our snack. I believe it would look better done with charcoal and I have a white canvas in my room that I was going to try it on. However, if you would like, I would rather go over your case with you when we are done. We could meet in your room, or mine, and discus what notes you have. That would better prepare me for the conversation I plan on having with father tonight.”

“You’re going to talk to B tonight?” Tim asked.

“Yes. After he returns from the company. Like you said earlier, your case is somewhat time sensitive. We need to get it completed quickly if we want to complete it at all.”

“And you think he’ll listen to you?”

“I think he’ll have to, unless he wants the two of us doing this on our own.”  

“Look, Damian, I’m glad you want to help. I could use your help with this case, but Bruce doesn’t want me working it anymore. I don’t think he’s going to backdown just because you threaten him with us sneaking out,” Tim informed.

Damian stopped eating to stare at the other man, whose gaze was focused down on the sandwich he was currently tearing apart with his fingers. “Of course not. That’s why I wished to speak with you first. I believe father will be more willing to listen to my plea if I have a plan of action accompanying it. If you and I could come up with a course of action that might help accelerate the completion of your case, then he would be more willing to let you out of the house to finish it.”

“Master Timothy is much too ill to be parading around filthy brothels,” Alfred chimed in.

“It’s not a brothel.” Tim remarked. “It’s actually a bar.”

“Yes, with a brothel in the back.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s where you are hoping to end up.”

“I have to, Alfred. I can’t get my guy if I don’t get into the back rooms. It’s the only way I’ll ever get close enough to take him down,” Tim stated as the butler placed a glass of milk in front of each of his wards.

“You’re health is not worth the risk.”

“I…”

“I agree,” Damian cut Tim off. “Which is why it’s better to end this case quickly. The longer we prolong the case, the ore exposed Timothy will be. It’s better this way, Pennyworth. You’ll see. Father will see, too.”


End file.
